


Ad Veritatem

by Sheridan_Rhapsody



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Case Fic, Cute!Jack, Established Relationship, Genital Torture, M/M, Spencer Reid Not Part of the BAU, Yenta!Rossi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheridan_Rhapsody/pseuds/Sheridan_Rhapsody
Summary: FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner’s life seems to finally be going well – the BAU team is running smoothly, Jack is happy and healthy, and Aaron is getting ready to celebrate his one year anniversary with Dr. Spencer Reid, Professor at Georgetown. But Spencer has secrets he hasn’t shared with his lover and they threaten to destroy everything Aaron holds dear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fanfic work published to a public site and it is both exciting and nerve wracking. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Many thanks to my lovely Beta, SpandexOverlordSteisi and to rivermoon1970 for the beautiful artwork. Also thanks to DarkJediQueen for organizing this Big Bang - it was a lot of fun!
> 
> Warnings: Canon-level violence which includes kidnapping, murder, rape, torture, child abuse, etc.  
> Disclaimer: Criminal Minds, BAU, etc are not mine, yada, yada, yada

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=111m6mq)

Prologue

The bar was in one of those ubiquitous locations that all major metropolitan areas seem to have, littered with warehouses that gave the impression of being abandoned. Of course, if they were occupied, it was more than likely whatever went down there was not governed by the same laws that ruled the rest of the city. In this case, a flickering exit sign over a door covered with what an uninformed eye would assume was graffiti marked the entrance to one the city’s most infamous haunts, where anything and everything could be purchased as long as one had the right currency.

That, of course, was why she was there. However, information required an informant and hers, she thought angrily, was late. In any other situation, she would have calmly sipped her subpar vodka martini and waited patiently while imagining the hundred different ways she could make the fool pay for keeping her waiting. This, however, was not any other situation.  This was quite personal. Her fingers beat an annoyed staccato  on her thigh as  she refrained from glancing at her watch again and instead glared at the door.

Many minutes and another martini later, the door finally opened and spat out the one she had been waiting for. As the man made his way over, she schooled her expression into one of boredom, hiding the anticipation that was rising within her. She played the game, buying him a drink and engaging him in an interrogation disguised as idle chit chat to ensure this was a valid deal and not a set-up.

“So, I hear you are looking for a scholar?”

She smiled, white teeth flashing like a shark’s. “Not just any scholar. A very special one.”

“Well, it just so happens that I might be able to help you.”

Vicious glee filled her, mixed with tingling excitement. Finally, the hunt for her prey could begin and revenge, all the sweeter for the time she had had to plan it, would be hers.

“Well then, let’s talk business, shall we?”

Chapter 1

_“Every single person has at least one secret that would break your heart.” – Frank Warren_

Hotch quietly let himself into the back of the Georgetown University lecture hall. His dark eyes glanced over the room, taking in the large number of filled seats and the many avid students taking frantic notes. As he leaned against the back wall, he smirked at the few students who were obviously not paying attention, either sleeping or fiddling with their phones. It was only after he had taken in the scene that he allowed himself to focus on the real reason he was here.

The professor was sitting cross-legged on the desk in front, his hands moving through the air as he expounded on The Great Vowel Shift. Hotch gave up paying attention to the content of the lecture – it went right over over his head – and instead just let the voice wash over him, relaxing and grounding him from the hard case the BAU had just closed. He found himself entranced by the shape of the man’s full mouth and the expressive motions of his hands, drawn into memories of them dancing over his body and leaving exquisite pleasure in their wake.

A sudden swell of voices jolted Hotch from his recollections. He realized with a starts that he had lost track of surroundings and the students were gathering their things, dismissed for the day. He quickly checked himself then sighed, glad to see his inappropriate thoughts had not yet made his body react. Making sure his face was schooled into an impassive mask, he waited until the last of the students exited the room before pushing off from the wall and walking to the front.

“Good evening, Dr. Reid.”

The professor turned from his desk, draping a messenger bag across his chest. “Aaron! When did you get back?”

Hotch took in his lover’s wide smile and sparkling eyes. A soft smile stole across his face at the obvious signs of affection on the other man. “Earlier this afternoon. We wrapped the case up this morning and everyone wanted to get home as soon as possible.”

“Well that’s understandable, considering you’ve been gone almost a week. Have you been home yet?” Dr. Reid rocked back on his heels, his hands clasping the strap of his bag as he took in the lines of stress on Hotch’s face and the tired look in his eyes.

“No, not yet. I thought I would see if you wanted to join me?”

“Of course, Aaron. With Jack too, correct?”

The simple answer filled Hotch with love, as he was once again reminded of the easy acceptance and care his lover had for his son. Without thinking about it, he wrapped his hand around the back of the man’s neck, his fingers tangling in soft hair as he tugged him forward into a kiss. He kept it simple, just a soft slide of lips against lips, before he pulled away. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Hotch smiled and leaned forward for another quick kiss. “For being you, Spencer.” His grin grew as a soft blush stole over Reid’s cheeks. Stepping back, he released the man with some reluctance, reminding himself they had the whole evening ahead of them. “Now, did you drive or take the bus today? We can go get Jack from Jessica’s place together if you want?”

Spencer gazed back at Aaron for a few moments before nodding. “I would like that. I took the Metro today, so let me just grab my coat from my office and then we can go.” He started walking to the door, Hotch a step behind him. “On our way, you can tell me how children fit into your case involving murdered prostitutes.”

Hotch paused for a moment, his gaze whipping to take in the sly smirk on Reid’s face. With a sigh, he resumed walking. “I should stop being surprised by the way you figure these things out so quickly. Especially once I found out Gideon tried to recruit you all those years ago.”

“Well, I have to say I am glad I turned him down. As I mentioned before, I am sure the anti-fraternization regulations would have stopped you from asking me out and that would certainly have been a shame. We have already established I am horrible at planning seductive dates. I am sure my efforts to seduce you as my boss would have been equally doomed to failure.”

A huff of laughter escaped Hotch. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Aaron, we ended up in the ER. Your tie caught on fire when I knocked over the candle while trying to figure out a subtle way to hold your hand. Then you ended up with ten stitches when I accidentally knocked you and the table over while trying to put it out. I think that counts as a complete and total failure.”

“So it didn’t have the best of starts, but the ending definitely made up for it all.” Hotch’s voice was soft, his eyes filled with affection as he remembered the way Spencer had looked standing dejectedly outside the hospital, apologizing for the events of the night, saying he just wanted to have a romantic Valentine’s Day because that’s what couples in love did. It was the first time either of them had mentioned love and Aaron had felt like he had been punched in the gut, staring at the beautiful man who had come to mean so much to him.

Spencer stopped in front of his office door, keys in hand, thinking about the morning after that failed date when he had woken up with Aaron curled around him, having stayed the night for the first time. He smiled while unlocking the door, remembering Aaron kissing him before he left for the day with a murmured _Have a good day, Dr. Reid, I love you,_ which had quickly become his usual morning send-off.

“Alright, I will concede that one. Either way, I am certainly glad we are where we are now. As much as I enjoy talking with you about your cases, I much prefer being your boyfriend than theoretical teammate. Now, let’s go pick up your son and have macaroni and cheese for dinner. He was asking for that when I met up with him and Jess earlier this week at the park.” Reid took the long black coat and purple scarf off the hook hanging by his door before locking up his office. Settling them on his lanky frame, he turned to look at Aaron, his eyes serious.

“Do not think I missed how you tried to divert my attention from talking about your case, Aaron.”

Knowing it was pointless to argue with the professor, Hotch led the way to his car, preparing himself to talk about the unsub from the case he had just wrapped up - a young man who was killing single mother prostitutes in a manner similar to his own mother’s murder by a john when he was only 12, sending him into the clutches of an abusive foster family. While they had successfully stopped the fourth murder from happening, the faces of the young children whose mothers had been killed stuck with him still. Seeing them during the investigation had hit him deeply and on a personal level only the children of murdered mothers could reach. It was no wonder Spencer had made the connection once he had picked up on his lingering disquiet, Aaron mused. The man certainly knew him well.

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True to Reid’s prediction, Jack had demanded Mac & Cheese after he had gotten over his excitement of his father picking him up. Of course, it wasn’t just simple macaroni and cheese from the box he wanted, it was Spencer’s homemade recipe, so the genius had drafted father and son as his sous chefs while he whipped up the cheese sauce from scratch and poured it over the pasta before popping it in the oven. While they waited for it to finish cooking, Reid herded them out to the living room to pick out a movie while he cleaned up the mess they had made of the kitchen.

“Dad?” Jack’s voice was tentative. While he was generally a shy boy with strangers, Aaron was used to him being much more rambunctious when at home with him and, over the last few months, with Spencer as well.

“Yes Jack?”

The boy fiddled with the DVD case he was holding. “When did Spencer become your boyfriend?”

Aaron stared at his son, trying to understand where this question might have come from. “Well, you know how we have been friends since Dr. Blake joined my team?”

The boy nodded, putting Ice Age back on the shelf and pulling out The Incredibles.  “Yup, and then you realized you really liked him and you guys became boyfriends but it’s a secret that only Aunt Alex and Aunt Jessica and Uncle Dave know so I can’t talk with anyone else about it - which is really stupid.” The boy paused, glaring at his father before blinking and whining. “But Dad, when did you become boyfriends?”

“Ah, well…”

“May 15th of last year.” Aaron looked up to see Spencer in the archway between the living room and the kitchen. “That was when your Dad and I went on a date and became boyfriends.”

“Oh, ok.” Jack ran his fingers over the row of DVDs on the shelf next to the TV before pulling out his fourth choice for the night and turning to Spencer. “Let’s watch Finding Nemo. I wanna hear all about the sea turtles again!”

“We can certainly do that. First, though, we need to eat dinner.”

“Okay! I’ll go wash my hands.” The boy jumped up and ran out of the room. Hotch smiled after him before turning to Spencer.

“So, we became boyfriends on our first date?” He smiled at Spencer as he walked toward the man.

“Of course Aaron. We could hardly have been boyfriends before having had a single date despite how much you wanted to bend me over the kitchen table.”

Hotch groaned. “I only said that one time! And I completely blame Garcia’s margaritas for that.”

Spencer pouted, his eyes gleaming. “So you don’t want to bend me over the kitchen table?”

Hotch’s breath caught, his eyes drawn to those full lips. Arousal pooled in his belly but the sound of running feet quickly halted it. “Later.” He whispered, his dark eyes filled with promise, before walking past the professor and into the kitchen.

Dinner, followed by the movie, passed quickly, filled with the idle chatter interspersed with random questions and detailed answers that tended to be the norm for evenings involving a curious 7-year-old and a genius. By the time Aaron was tucking his son into bed, the tension he had carried from his previous case had slipped away to be replaced with quiet contentment.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“Today was May 1st.” His son’s face was serious, his usual sleepy smile turned into an adorable frown. Hotch wondered what this was about.

“Yes, it was.”

“So May 15th is gonna be soon.” The boy sat up, his hands reaching out to clutch his father’s arm. “You gotta do something really special for Spencer that day, ‘kay Dad.”

His heart filling with warmth, Aaron smiled at the earnest look in Jack’s eyes. “Of course, Jack. You want to help me plan this special something?”

The boy shook his head. “Nuh uh, it’s gotta be something just from you.”

“Why is that I’m sure he would really like anything you helped with?”

“Nope, you gotta show him how much you love him. That way, when you ask him to marry you, he’ll say yes. Don’t worry, I’ll ask Aunt Jessica to help me do something special for him so he’ll know I love him too!”

Utterly flummoxed, Aaron stared at his son’s eager eyes. “You want me to ask Spencer to marry me?”

“Of course! He’s smart and can cook and you love him and he helps take care of me when you’re gone! You’ve been boyfriends for a year. You need to get married so he can move in with us and we can be a real family. And then I can get a dog!”

His head filling with images of the life his son was describing, Hotch realized he wanted it. At least the marriage part, he wasn’t so sure about the dog yet. With a sigh, he focused on his son who was practically bouncing while sitting on his bed.

“Well then, I will certainly get to work on that Jack. Now, though, it’s time for bed.”

“Okay Dad.” Jack leaned forward, hands wrapping around his father for a quick hug before he settled back onto his bed. Hotch pulled the covers up around his son’s shoulders, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Good night, Jack.”

“Night, Dad.”

As Hotch walked out the room, leaving the door open a crack to let some light shine in, his mind was racing over his son’s words. He had two weeks to come up with a plan for his first anniversary with one Dr. Spencer Reid. And while he wasn’t ready to go out and buy a ring right away, maybe he should start thinking about what his lover might like. It never hurt to be prepared.

“Jack asleep?”

Spencer’s voice pulled Aaron from his thoughts. He looked over at his lover sitting lengthwise on the couch, his long leg bent with a thick book resting on his knees.

“Not quite yet, but he will be soon.” With a predatory smile, Aaron prowled forward. “Now, I believe I promised you something earlier.”

Spencer’s pupils dilated as he took in the form of the agent moving toward him, heat in his eyes and a growl in his voice. He quickly placed his book down and rose from the couch, meeting his lover face to face with a teasing half smile.

“You did mention something. I take it later means now?”

Aaron closed the small space between them, bringing their bodies flush as he plundered his mouth. A soft moan from Spencer made his cock twitch and harden, an answering hardness brushing against his thighs from the man in his arms. With a quick nip to his lover’s bottom lip, Aaron pulled away just enough to whisper into the air between their lips.

“The kitchen table will have to wait until a time when Jack isn’t here. For tonight, my bed will have to do.”

With a huff of laughter, the younger man tilted his head forward and pressed a brief, chaste kiss on soft lips, his gentle hands framing Aaron’s face, preventing the agent from deepening the kiss. Pulling back, Spencer let his hands slide down to his lover’s chest to give a gentle push.

“Well then, we should move in that direction.”

With that, the two men separated, moving down the hallway and into the master bedroom. Clothes were quickly discarded as they met at the foot of the bed sitting in the middle of the room. Mouths once again met as Aaron maneuvered the taller man down onto the bed, one hand tangled in his shaggy hair, the other trailing down his body to grasp at a hip. Lips and hands wandered as the two men settled, bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces. A moan filled the air as cocks rubbed together, friction just a bit too much.

At the next breathless sound, Aaron pulled himself away from the man below him, his eyes taking in the debauched picture as his hand reached into a drawer and came back with a bottle. Spencer spread his legs a bit more, tilting his hips in anticipation. Aaron trailed his mouth down his lover’s chest to sensitive nipples, as his slick fingers dipped between Spencer’s cheeks, circling his hole. One finger slipped inside. Aaron took a pert nub into his mouth, sucking hard. The resulting gasp had him glancing up, dark eyes taking in his lover’s head thrown back in pleasure. One finger quickly became two, then three, fingertips thrusting and occasionally brushing against that bundle of nerves, making his lover’s cock twitch against his belly. Aaron switched to the other nipple, laving it with his tongue before teasing it with the edge of his teeth. Spencer shuddered beneath him.

“Aaron, please.”

The older man pulled out his fingers,  replacing them with his cock. One sure thrust brought him home. Spencer’s long legs wrapped around Aaron’s hips as he began to move, long, powerful strokes that made his lover clutch at his shoulders. He buried his head against the side of his face, Spencer’s hair brushing his forehead as his mouth worked the spot where shoulder met neck. A litany of “please…yes…Aaron, more…” filled the air along with hushed moans and the slap of flesh. Then Spencer tensed, a soft whine working its way past his clenched teeth, and he was spilling between their bodies.

With a growl, Aaron hitched his lover’s legs on his shoulders and plowed into the pliant body beneath him. Dark eyes with blown pupils held pleasure-filled hazel ones before shuttering closed as Aaron stilled with a long groan. Spencer watched his face as he came, exquisite as always in the throes of pleasure.

Without opening his eyes, Aaron collapsed to the side, making sure his weight did not land on his slighter lover. Spencer stretched out his body before curling back around his lover, tucking his face close for a long, gentle kiss.

With a sigh, Aaron extricated himself, climbing from the bed to wander toward the bathroom. Spencer watched him go, eyes tracing over the agent’s beautiful physique, lingering on his ass, before he too rolled off the bed and joined his lover in preparing for sleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_ “Everyone has secrets. It's just a matter of finding out what they are.” ― Stieg Larsson _

Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, frowning at his “365 Days of Positive Affirmation!” calendar. A gift from Garcia. The quote and the cartoon drawing of a flower under it weren’t the cause of his ire, but rather the date displayed in the upper right hand corner. He had 9 days left to come up with a plan to show one Professor Spencer Reid that he could not imagine life without him and all he had managed to do was discard every idea he had.

A buzz from his cell phone distracted him from his brooding. With a sigh, he opened the message from Garcia. The shift from anxious boyfriend to competent federal agent was quick, though the wry thought that this would certainly not help his effort at planning his date managed to slip through. Before he left his office to gather the team, he sent a quick message to Jessica, letting her know he wouldn’t be able to pick Jack up from school today.

“Everyone gather up, we have a new case.”

The BAU team quickly stopped what they were doing and headed into the briefing room where Penelope Garcia, dressed in a bright orange and purple dress and tottering on platform heels, was passing out the tablets containing the information she had gathered. Once everyone was seated, she used the pointer she was holding to push her matching purple glasses into place on the bridge of her nose before starting.

“Alright my lovelies, it’s another day of the many oh-so-disturbing things people can do to each other.”

Turning to the presentation, she revealed a picture of a middle aged average white man with brown hair and eyes smiling from the screen.

“Exactly one week ago, Dr. Christian Marino, PhD, failed to show up for his Monday morning lecture at Columbia University. His body was found that afternoon in his apartment bathroom.”

The screen changed to an obvious crime scene photograph of the man in his bathtub in his boxers, blood pooling from obviously deep cuts in both wrists.

“This was initially thought to be a tragic suicide, complete with a note and razor at the scene. The police, however, did some further digging because of the rather horrifying state of his, um, genitals, which you can see on your tablets because I have no desire to ever see that again.”

The team scrolled to the next image on their screens, silence reigning as they took in the pictures of the victims damaged penis and scrotum.

“What the hell?!” Morgan was the first to speak, shifting in his seat as if checking to make sure his dick was intact.

“Any thoughts on what caused these injuries, Garcia?” Hotch asked, taking in the reactions of his team.

“The ME ruled that the burns were caused by electricity, the cuts from a very thin blade and the ligature marks from some sort of rope. However, with the level of healing on the cuts, she noted they likely occurred several hours prior to the time of death.”

“I think it’s safe to say someone tortured him.” Rossi said dryly, setting his tablet down. JJ and Blake hummed their agreement.

“That’s pretty obvious.” Prentis said dryly, swiping between the photos.

“Oh my little ducks, don’t be too quick to assume.” Garcia brought up pictures of three books arranged on a bed. “These lovely bits of literature were found in a box under our poor professor’s bed and apparently are a basic 101 on BDSM. CBT in particular.“

“CBT?” Blake enquired, squinting to make out the names of the authors.

“Cock and ball torture.” Prentiss replied.

“Yep.” Garcia exclaimed, popping the p at the end of the word. “Given those and the suicide note talking about letting his “immoral acts” rule him, the police figured the injuries, while horrific, may have been self-inflicted.”

“So why are we being called in?” Morgan asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Patience, handsome, I was just getting there.” Garcia wagged her ring-adorned finger at him before turning back to the screen. “So, the police do their usual checking around and stumble on the name of a Dominatrix, Mystique, who admits that the victim was a regular client of hers. But, here’s the twist – he was a puppy and wasn’t into pain at all.”

“What?” JJ and Prentiss exclaimed at the same time.

“So the guy liked to dress up as a dog and crawl around on a leash during the weekends?” Morgan was a second behind them.

“To each their own, I guess.” Rossi replied. “So based on what this dominatrix said, my previous observation about torture still holds.”

Garcia nodded. “The lead detective certainly seemed to think so, enough that he made some calls and found a similar case from three weeks prior.”

Two pictures appeared on the screen, one of middle-aged, well-dressed white man and the other displaying the same man in his bathtub with cuts on his wrists.

“Dr. William Amos, professor at Harvard.  He was also found dead in his apartment from apparent suicide with similar signs of genital torture, a suicide note, and CBT books tucked away in the apartment. Details are on your tablets.”

Silence again descended as the team scrolled through the information before Hotch cleared his throat.

“We’ll have more time to review the information later, though it certainly looks like the work of the same unsub. For now, we are all going to New York. Wheels up in 30.”

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Spencer pulled out his cell phone as he left his last class of the day. He frowned at the first voicemail but then smiled when his lover’s voice filled his ear after the intro for the second message. Aaron’s message was simple, just a heads up he was heading out for a case and wasn’t sure when he would be back in town. Sighing, he skipped through the last two messages about his dry-cleaning and a reminder for a meeting with the Department Head while gathering his things and making his way to the bus station.

Once back at his apartment, he dropped everything on the couch that took up the main space that wasn’t filled with books. Moving to his bedroom, he opened his closet. Shoving aside his clothes, he pressed the hidden button against the shelf in the corner that allowed it to slide along the back wall, exposing a keypad that had been hidden by its side. Tapping in the 10 digit code had the wall swinging inward, exposing a hidden room filled with wall to ceiling filing cabinets along one side, a series of whiteboards and maps along the other, and a large desk with a computer, printer, and phone against the back wall.

Spencer walked into the room, closing the hidden door behind him. As it slid shut on the wall holding even more whiteboards, the lock clicked shut, sealing him inside. Sitting in the padded desk chair, Spencer picked up the phone and dialed a long distance number. He sat back as it rang, then entered even more digits with several pauses to listen to the computerized prompts on the end of the line until he finally spoke.

“This is The Scholar, designation alpha-delta-zulu-tango-3-2-4-7-9-foxtrot-sierra, reporting in.”

As he listened to the annoying hold music that ensued, he logged into the computer and clicked the small bird icon in the upper left hand corner. The screen filled with another login screen, a “Warning: Top Secret Clearance Required!” flashing across the top banner, a small CIA seal at the bottom. Logging in with 5 increasingly complicated passcodes, he relaxed back in his seat and began to scroll through the new messages in his inbox, the printer whirring to life beside him to spit out the new files his handler has sent him.

A light female voice came over the line. “Agent Reid, tell me what you’ve found since we last spoke.”

“Hello, Charlene.” With that, Agent Spencer Reid aka The Scholar, one of the CIA’s most brilliant operatives-turned consultant filled his handler in on his work connecting various international organizations and governments, profiling key individuals interacting with operatives undercover, and locating strategic targets, both physical locations and individual people, from the endless amount of information that was sent to him on a daily basis from various missions abroad.

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The Upper Manhattan precinct had set aside a small conference room for the BAU. The team barely fit inside, along with their copies of the file, the chipped desk, wobbly chairs, and the lone murder board.

“Space is at a premium here in New York,” the officer that had showed them to the room offered blandly from the doorway. “We did the best we could to get you somethin’.”

“Well, we’ve made do with worse.” Rossi walked over to the board, looking at the pictures from the crime scene that were tacked up to it. The officer nodded and wandered off.

“Remember that glorified closet in L.A.?” Emily said offhand, sliding into a chair that creaked ominously but held steady as she flipped open the paper file in front of her.

JJ pulled a face and set her case on the chair in front of her, figuring standing would be more comfortable for the moment. “Or that place in Alabama that didn’t have air conditioning?”

Hotch let his team banter as they settled in before he moved forward. “Dave and Prentiss, I want you to go to the victim’s apartment. Blake and JJ, go to the University. Morgan, I want talk to the ME and forensics, figure out what they can tell us. I will stay here for now and compare what we have with the Boston case. Keep me up to date on what you find.”

While the team made their way out the door, Hotch pulled out his phone.

“You’ve reached the great and powerful  _ moi _ , spreading colorful cheer and infinite knowledge across the universe, how can I be of service!”

“Garcia, I need you to see if there are any other crimes across the US that match these two. Start on the East Coast in the last few months but expand from there.”

“But of course, bossman, I’ll get right on that. Anything in particular you want me to focus on beside the obvious torture down under?”

“The genital mutilation along with staging the deaths to look like suicides should cover it. These kills are too polished to be our unsub’s first time doing this.”

“Okay. Tell my chocolate thunder he owes me a kitten meme for every horrible picture I have to face, m’kay? Bye!”

Bemused, as always, by the bubbly tech analyst, Hotch went in search of the lead detective to discuss the case.

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Down in the morgue, Morgan stared at the covered body of Dr. Christian Marino. With the white drape from the shoulders down, this body appeared no different from any other. Morgan couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing – he didn’t particularly want to see the other man’s damaged goods, so to speak, but he knew that the impressions he would gather from seeing it in person were important. Of course, compared to the myriad of bodies he’s seen as part of the BAU, this one was on the less grotesque side. He never could get used to it though. As the ME bustled in, Morgan steeled himself for what he was about to see.

“Agent Morgan, I presume?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Doctor Melissa Gunthrey. Forgive me for not shaking your hand but I was just elbow deep in an explosive victim and no matter how much I wash my hands after, I find the smell of burnt skin lingers.”

“Ah, I appreciate that Doc.” Morgan turned back to the body. “What can you tell me about my vic?”

Slipping a pair of gloves on, the older doctor removed the drape and motioned toward the cleaned wounds on the wrists.

“Cause of death was straight-forward, exsanguination from the severing of the arteries in the wrists. The characteristics of the wound are consistent with the straight razor found at the scene. Taking into account the angle of the cuts, it certainly looks like they could be self-inflicted.”

“But?” Morgan prompted, staring at the single thin but deep cut on each wrist.

“Compare the two sides.” Dr. Gunthrey lifted the arms one by one, allowing the agent to inspect the wrists more closely.

“They look the same.”

“Exactly. With bilateral self-inflicted wrist wounds, that is almost never the case. One cut is performed by the non-dominant hand, so it is less precise. Also, the pain from the first cut should impede the ability to make the second one, so it is usually less deep. With this man, the two sides are identical in precision and depth. Also, toxicology revealed high levels of benzodiazepines in his blood, which could have come from the bottle of Xanax that was found on the sink. With the amount of the drug in his system, he would have been quite drowsy, which would have also impacted the precision of the cuts. On top of that, these wounds are incredibly accurate.”

“What do you mean?”

Turning to the table next to the body, the ME picked up a small metal tool, using it to make a line across the right wrist just below the cut.

“There are ligaments across the wrists that form the carpal tunnel. To sever the radial artery with a horizontal slice across the wrists, you need to cut through that. However, the cuts here are not actually on the wrist but a little further up, above where the carpal tunnel lies. This made it easier to make the deep cut needed to bisect the artery.”

“So someone with knowledge of anatomy made those cuts?”

The doctor shrugged, placing the tool back on the side table. “That, or a good google search and practice. Either way, the chances that it was our victim are incredibly slim. Plain and simple, this was murder.”

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“Thank you for taking the time to talk with us.” JJ said as they were escorted into the office by Dr. Langford, Chair of the Department of Criminal Justice.

“Oh, no, it’s no problem. I am still trying to wrap my head around it all.” The portly man took a seat at the stately desk crammed full of files and scattered loose paper.

“Dr. Langford, what can you tell us about Dr. Marino?” Blake asked, watching the other professor closely as she sat in one of the two chairs arranged on the other side of the desk.

“Well, Chris, he was a very intense, focused man. Utterly brilliant but not always the most social.” The man fiddled with the papers in front of him, shuffling them into a semblance of a pile. “You see, while he worked out of this department, he actually has…I mean had…three advanced degrees – two doctorates in Criminology and Political Science, as well as a masters in Economics. His research focused on organized crime.”

JJ’s eyebrows rose as she replied, “How did he manage that?”

The professor coughed, eyeing the women over his glasses. “Well, Chris and I weren’t exactly that close, he never really told me much. But there were rumors, you know how it goes. These rumors said that he had extended family involved in the Italian Mafia and that was how he started out, got his foot in the door, so to speak. But that was several years ago. From my understanding, his current work is based off the relationships he has cultivated over the last years.

“Any concerns about his current research?” Blake inquired.

“Not that I was aware of. I mean, you would have to talk with the IRB and his graduate assistant, Thomas Holt, for details. But, I mean, as far as I’m aware, everything was going well.” The man paused, adjusting his glasses. “You don’t think his work is the reason he is dead, do you? I mean, yes, he worked with criminals and all, but he’d been doing this type of thing for almost the last decade without any problems!”

JJ shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and taking in the nervous man in front of her. “We are still exploring all the avenues at this time, Dr. Langford. Was there anyone in the department Chris was close with?”

“You know, I can’t really think of anyone. I mean, he was perfectly nice, you know, but quite private. Very focused on his work whenever he was here, you see. In fact, I don’t think I ever saw him at any of the more informal get togethers a few of the other professors put on now and again. Nearly everyone else shows up when Bertie – Dr. Elizabeth Bailey – invites everyone to her place. Her husband is a professional chef and they always have the best wine.”

JJ and Blake glanced at each other before they both began to rise from their chairs.

“Would you be able to show us his office?” JJ asked as Blake slipped her notebook away in her bag.

“Oh, Barbara, my assistant, she can show you. She has the key, you see, and can let you in.”

“Alright. Thank you for your time, Dr. Langford.” The two women shook the Professor’s hand before heading to the door. As JJ went to speak with Barbara, Blake paused at the door and turned back.

“Dr. Langford, you mentioned a graduate assistant. How can we get a hold of him?”

“Yes, yes, Thomas Holt. Barbara will have his information. Bright lad, if a little odd. Chris was overseeing his Master’s thesis. Oh, I didn’t even think of that, we’ll need to assign a new advisor. Goodness, where did I put that list…”

Blake watched as the Department Chair swept his hand over the stack of papers he had just arranged, sending them scattering over the desk again. With a quick, “Thank you again,” she walked out the door and closed it behind her.

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Thomas Holt was an awkwardly lanky young man who spouted off about the many ways the world was on “an endless spiral of entropy until death claims us all.” When told his advisor was likely murdered, he looked at the two agents and simply asked, “Was it gruesome?” While JJ wondered if they might need to have Garcia keep tabs on the young man in case he decided to explore death in a more active manner, their interview with him was overall unremarkable.

Dr. Marino’s office was equally unhelpful. It was ruthlessly organized, everything tucked away and all files neatly labeled. Going through the single file cabinet did reveal several notebooks filled to the brim with shorthand which were likely his research notes. Blake took those to study further. Besides that, there were simply files filled with partially graded tests, various books in his three subject areas, and a calendar filled with reminders. Barbara, the department secretary, helpfully informed them all the dates marked matched with departmental meetings or university events. There was no computer in the office. Ever-helpful, Barbara informed them that Dr. Marino only ever used his laptop.

Questioning his colleagues revealed very little new information as well. All of them spoke highly of the victim’s work, but did not really know much about his personal life, though several repeated the rumor that he may have had family involved with the Italian Mafia.

Back at the station, they briefed Morgan and Hotch on what they had found. Rossi and Emily arrived a few minutes later to report that the apartment was equally organized and beside a locked luggage case containing what appeared to be accoutrements for the victim’s hobby of pretending to be a puppy and a large collection of spy novels, there wasn’t anything of note.

“No signs of anything out of place or any sort of recent clean-up.” Prentis reported at the end of her overview. “And nothing in his bag of puppy toys would have caused the torture marks.”

“So, the unsub likely has a secondary location where they tortured the victims.” Morgan stated, leaning against the wall by the board, taking a bite out of the pizza Rossi had supplied from “a true New York pizzeria.”

“That seems likely.” Rossi paused, tapping the note sheet in front of him. “We also didn’t find a laptop. If the unsub took that as well, it could be they’re looking for some sort of information. The torture could serve a secondary purpose.”

“Well, the last time anyone saw our vic was Friday evening at the bodega two blocks from his apartment where he bought some coffee on his way home from work.” Prentiss wandered over to the murder board and wrote up a quick timeline.

“Forensics reports that while they don’t have anything that shows his front door, traffic cameras on both ends of his block have him walking by on Friday night and then he doesn’t show up all weekend.” Morgan noted. “The ME estimates time of death between midnight and 2 AM Monday morning. The bathtub in his apartment was definitely where he was killed given the blood splatters.”

Prentiss dutifully added that information to the board. “So, sometime between Friday night and Monday morning, the unsub somehow took our vic to a secondary location, tortured him, and then brought him back to the apartment.”

“Where they then drugged him with Xanax, put him in the bathtub and cut his wrists. They then staged the scene so it would look like a suicide, complete with faked note.” JJ handed a copy of the note to Prentiss to add to the board.

“Anyone else thinking all this is a bit much for one person to pull off on their own?” Blake inquired as she stared at the timeline.

Rossi nodded. “The professor wasn’t a small guy and there was no evidence of a struggle or someone cleaning up after one. Add to that the amount of coordination required to transfer our victim to and from a secondary location without anyone noticing. Either our unsub is very, very skilled as well as strong, or we have another person involved.”

Morgan shook his head. “This is definitely not the work of a team. Everything from the torture to the murder to staging the scene indicates a high level of precision and control. Our unsub is incredibly organized and likely planned out every single detail in advance. They definitely spent some time studying Dr. Marino, enough to know his habits and schedule so they could predict that no one would miss him this weekend. With that level of control, they wouldn’t let anyone else participate in carrying out their plans. They get just as much pleasure from everything going according to plan as they do from the actual torture and murder.”

“Unless the person helping them is someone they view as simply a tool that they control as well.” Blake spoke slowly as she tilted her head, thinking out loud. “Someone who will follow their orders for very specific things like transporting the victim but not interfere with their actual work.”

Morgan frowned, considering. “Maybe. But only very simple, easily handled tasks. There is no way our guy is letting anyone mess up their carefully laid plans.”

“Well, a hitman from the mafia could certainly work like that with someone lower on the totem pole.” Prentiss pointed out. “With Dr. Marino’s research and the rumor of family involvement in organized crime, we should probably consider that angle.”

“We can have Garcia see if there is any truth to that particular rumor, though from the file she put together, it didn’t seem like he had any close family since his mother passed away several years ago.” Hotch remarked.

“Yes, I did notice that.” Blake motioned toward the notebooks she had in front of her. “Maybe his notes will give us some more information, though I doubt it. From what his assistant told us, his current project was looking at the tax evasion schemes of already convicted members of the mob. That doesn’t strike me as something that someone would want him killed over. Plus, the crime scene doesn’t really fit with the usual work of those in organized crime.”

“I agree,” Rossi nodded, eyeing the pictures of the body that were displayed on the board, “Members of the mafia don’t usually go to the effort to make it look like suicide, especially if they are trying to send a message. The organized crime angle also doesn’t explain the other possible victim in Boston.”

“That reminds me,” Hotch turned to Morgan. “Get Garcia on the phone. I need an update on her search for similar cases.”

The line picked up after the first ring.

“Hello my Chocolate Adonis, are the denizens of the Big Apple appreciating your delicious presence?”

“Hey sugar, you’re on speakerphone.”

“Oh! Let me guess, you wanna hear what I’ve found out about the other victims of today’s special brand of sick and twisted?”

“You got it, princess. Whatcha find?”

“Besides the fact that there are way too many people out there who do unspeakable things to people’s unmentionables? Well, I have four cases that appear to be almost identical to our current one, down to the BDSM books found in the apartments and the suicide notes. All four were ruled as suicides, which is why I figure they didn’t ping for our brothers in blue there in NYC.”

The BAU team exchanged shocked looks.

“Garcia, you said four identical cases?” Hotch clarified after a moment.

“Yessiree, Bossman. And someone owes me like, a billion kitten memes and some brownies to make up for all those horrific pictures I cannot unsee, no matter how much I want to.”

“We knew about the one in Boston, Penelope, but what about the others?” JJ prompted.

“Yep, that would be poor Dr. William Amos, professor at Harvard, killed 3 weeks ago. A month before that was Dr. Shawn West from Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri. Dr. Elliot Kensington from Northwestern in Morgan’s hometown of Chicago was in the middle of February, and lastly, or really firstly I guess, was Dr. Michael Lewis of Stanford University in Palo Alto, California at the end of January.”

“Garcia, send us everything you have on those cases.” Hotch barked. “Start looking into these new victims’ information, keeping a special eye out for…”

“Any evidence of non-mainstream sex practices as well as anything that might connect them! My searches are already locked and loaded, sir. Info on the cases has been transmitted to your tablets and I notified the police for each of the cases about the possible linkage and to expect to hear from you soon. Anything else I can do for my favorite crime-fighting team?”

“Good job Babygirl, let us know whenever you find something.” Morgan replied as the rest of the team scrambled to pull out their tablets.

“Why of course, handsome, now I am off to wiggle my nose and make some magic happen.”

Morgan slid his phone away in his back pocket and sighed, joining the team in reviewing the new information on their tablets.

“Anyone else find it odd that there have been 5 cases across the US in the last 5 months but no mention of any before that?” Prentiss noted.

“It certainly isn’t typical.” Rossi stated blandly, leaning back in his seat. “And from the timeline Garcia gave us, the cooling-off period is only a few weeks with no escalation as I’d expect.”

“Alright, let’s split this up. JJ, Dave, Emily and Derek, each of you take one of our new cases, compare it to what we know about our current vic. Blake, I want you to start studying the books and suicide notes left at each scene by our unsub.”

Rossi raised his eyebrow at Hotch, “What are you going to be doing?”

“I am going to update Strauss and the captain here. Then we need to prepare a statement to send out to all the precincts around major universities. If we assume all the victim’s Garcia found are the work of our unsub, they’ve already moved on to a new location and their next victim. We cannot afford to lose time while the local police rule out suicide.”

“Have fun with that.” Rossi responded dryly before turning back to his tablet and digging into the information held there.

Hotch looked over his team as they diligently worked. Shoving aside his unease that their unsub was so far ahead of them, he turned and left the cramped room, steeling himself for the political maneuvering that he would need to do for the conversations about to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, I cast a serious Debbie Allen as Agent Charlene Addams  
> http://verbalslaps.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/050514-celebs-debbie-allen.png


	3. Chapter 3

_ “Nothing weighs on us so heavily as a secret.”  _ – Jean de La Fontaine

Reid sat at the small corner seat at his favorite diner near his apartment. He was nursing his overly sweet coffee after having finished off a delicious Danish for breakfast, pondering if he should pull out one of the books in his messenger back or go back to his apartment until his afternoon class. An image on the TV in the corner caught his eye. Putting down his coffee, he signaled for the waitress.

“Can you turn the TV up a little?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Reid!” The perky blonde chirped, topping off his coffee before grabbing a remote from under the counter.

Reid tilted his body to get a better view of the screen where SSA Aaron Hotchner stood at a podium with the BAU arrayed behind him.

“Agent Hotchner!” A reporter’s voice rose from the crowd in front of the podium. “Is it true that Dr. Marino was killed by a serial killer and not as part of his work studying the Italian Mob?”

“While working with the NYPD on this case, the BAU has identified four other cases outside New York that may be related.” Hotch replied smoothly. “While we are still investigating, given the similarities between the cases, it is possible that this is the work of a serial killer targeting male professors at prestigious universities. The Bureau is working in concert with the departments handling the other cases to compile all the information together. We have also issued a notification to police departments to allow us to learn about any other cases. We are doing everything we can to identify the person responsible for these crimes. Thank you.”

While the reporters continued to shout out questions, Hotch stepped away from the podium and walked out the side door with the BAU following a step behind like well-dressed ducklings.

Motioning to the waitress that she could turn the volume back down, Spencer pulled out his phone and sent off a text to his lover.

_ Saw the end of the press conference. Everything ok? Be safe. _

Sliding the phone into his pocket, he quickly finished his coffee and stood up, figuring he should join his boyfriend in his efforts to track down criminals, though he would be doing it from the comfort of his hidden office.

Of course, thinking of that made regret surge inside Spencer. Aaron didn’t know that side of him, only having encountered Dr. Reid, the genius professor, and Spencer, the socially awkward man. Like with almost everyone else in his life, Spencer had had to hide his work as a CIA agent along with his more ruthless side that came along with the job. Never before, though, had he wanted to share that part of his life with anyone else as much as he did with Aaron. Out of everyone he had dated, Aaron was the only one who he thought could handle that part of him. That, more than the love that had slowly taken root, was why this relationship had lasted longer than his usual 3-6 months. However wonderful it was to finally be with an equal, the feelings brought on by lying to his lover were starting to eat at him.

Sighing, Spencer pushed his guilt aside, knowing that this was what he had signed up for all those years ago. Even now, as much as he wanted to open up to Hotch, he knew that he would do nothing to jeopardize his current position. His mother’s mental health and safety depended on it and to do anything would just bring him heartache.

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After the press conference, the BAU reconvened in the conference room, not bothering to hide their annoyance at the Mayor’s political maneuvering in response to the morning tabloids claiming the FBI were working to “clean out the mafia.”  The tiny room was now adorned with various papers covered in notes and pictures related to the case, covering the table, board and even taped on the walls.

“Now that that charade is over, we can actually get some real work done.” Morgan complained, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.

“Please, that was simple compared to some of the press releases I had to give when I was the media liaison.” JJ rolled her eyes at the man’s theatrics.

“Yeah, but still, having all of us stand out there like props when we still have to finalize the profile and have nothing to add to Hotch’s statement was counterproductive.” Prentiss noted, crossing her legs as she sipped a cup of coffee.

“Useful or not, it’s done with. Now, please fill me in on what you all found from the review of the previous cases yesterday.” Hotch redirected his complaining team members, going to stand by the murder board and staring at the pictures of the five victims.

“Well, looking at victimology, our unsub definitely has a particular type.” Rossi pushed aside a notepad to make room for his large cup of coffee on the table before gesturing to the board. “White middle-aged men, all professors, dedicated to their work, overall liked but no real close friends or family. They all lived alone, making it easy to take them for a weekend without anyone missing them until they don’t show up to work.

“All of our vics were extremely smart and had multiple degrees. However, their research areas are all different. Dr Lewis had PhDs in applied mathematics and computer science with research on, quote, ‘consumer prediction models’.”

“What does that mean?” Prentiss interrupted him.

“Something about predicting how people are going to buy crap, best I could figure.” Rossi shrugged.

“Dr. Kensigton had doctorates in history and archeology. His research focused on the Byzantine empire. He apparently was working on a project around some architecture in western Turkey.” JJ spoke over Rossi’s derisive snort.

“Dr. West had PhD’s in neurobiology and psychology and was studying aggression.” Prentiss stated, pointedly looking at Morgan who just grinned and made a show of flexing his muscles.

“Well, Dr. Amos had degrees in communication and sociology. He apparently looked at work group dynamics stuff.” Morgan glanced at Prentiss before saying slyly, “If you wanna know specifics, look it up yourself. It was crazy boring so I gave up after one paper.

Prentiss and Dave laughed while the rest of the team grinned, Hotch gently shaking his head at his team members’ antics.

“I think the fact that these were incredibly intelligent men in the academic world is more important to our unsub than what their specific degrees or research was.” Everyone’s attention turned to Blake as she stood and pinned a typed piece of paper to the murder board covered in red writing. “After studying the faked suicide notes and removing the slight variances that are accounted for by each man’s own vernacular, they all say approximately the same thing:

**_‘_ ** _ To whoever finds me, _

_ I have failed to be the scholar I should have been. I let my immoral acts control me. I cannot live with it any longer.’ _

“While they each appear to be written by the individual men and the handwriting appears to match their own, given the almost identical nature of the letters, I would say our unsub dictated what they wrote.”

“The reference to “the scholar” certainly does line up with their work and each of our victims’ dedication to it above any social connections.” Hotch paused, looking over the note again. “The “immoral acts” could refer to BDSM practices.”

“Except none of the other victims had any evidence of being a part of the BDSM lifestyle except for our Columbia professor.” Prentiss argued. “The most found at the other scenes besides the planted books were condoms, and nothing popped on Garcia’s search of their internet histories or financials.”

“So the BDSM angle could just be to cover up the torture and Dr. Marino just happened to actually be into kinky sex.” Rossi mused.

“That’s the way I’m reading it.” JJ agreed, while Blake murmured, “Could be.”

“It not just about torture, though. If that was the case, our unsub wouldn’t just confine it to the genitals.” Hotch disagreed.

“Hotch is right. Whatever other purpose the torture serves, it’s also about emasculating the victims. The unsub targets the part of them that makes them male and uses it to hurt and control them.” Morgan pushed off the wall he was leaning against, voice intense. “Our unsub is a woman. And at some point in her life, she was sexually abused.”

A palpable quiet filled the room as the team digested this information. Into the silence, Hotch spoke.

“We’re ready to deliver the profile.”

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As the rest of the BAU prepared to tell the NYPD about the woman who had murdered Dr. Marino, Hotch pulled out his phone and checked his texts for the message he had received while building the profile. A quick smile tugged at his lips as he saw Spencer’s name and the short message. Thinking fondly of his lover, he was briefly reminded that he still had to figure out something for their anniversary. Putting his phone away, he wandered out the door, pondering what to do for his beloved, quirky, genius….professor.

Hotch stopped mid-step with a quick indrawn breath, his mind whirling, going over the profile they were about to present and comparing the victimology to his lover. A cold chill spread through him as horrified realization dawned.

“Hotch!”

Morgan’s sharp voice tore him from his terrible thoughts. Quickly forcing away all speculations of his lover’s likeness to the victims, he schooled his expression and turned toward his teammate.

“Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, man.” Morgan paused, eyeing his team leader for a moment, before turning toward the stairwell behind him. “The captain gathered everyone in the conference room a couple flights down.”

“Good.” With a nod, Hotch followed Morgan, ruthlessly suppressing his inner turmoil. This was not the time or the place for such thoughts. He had work to do.

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The BAU lined up at the front of the large room filled with NYPD, eyes sweeping over the group – fresh-faced rookies excited to hear from the special FBI team, scowling middle-aged detectives annoyed they had to call in the feds, bored looking senior officers who’d seen it all, grown immune to the horrors humankind can inflict on itself.

Hotch, as usual, took the lead. “We believe the unsub is a white woman in her 30’s. She likely travels across the United States for work, allowing her to carry out these killings in different states. The complexity and success of the staging of the crime scenes indicates that she is extremely intelligent as well as at least moderately aware of criminal countermeasures.”

“She was sexually abused throughout her childhood, which is why she focuses on torturing these men’s genitalia.” Morgan explained. “Unlike most male unsubs who carry out genital mutilation, she likely does not derive sexual pleasure from the act. Instead, she gains a sense of control.”

Prentiss picked up the presentation, “Everything this unsub does is about control. Like all victims of long-term abuse, she spent years with no control over what happened to her. In response, it is now essential to her to maintain control in her life, especially over men.”

JJ spoke next. “Our unsub chooses these men for their likeness to a man in her life who took away her control. While this may be her initial abuser, it is more probable that these men represent someone she encountered much more recently who made her feel the same loss of control that she experienced as a child. Our victims are surrogates for her revenge against that man and a way for her to reassert her control over him.”

“Given her compulsive need for control,” Rossi explained, “once she identifies her next victim, she will meticulously plan the torture and killing in advance to ensure everything occurs the way she wants it to. This includes stalking the victim, likely both in person and through other means. In order to maximize her ability to control her environment, we believe she has a secondary location where she takes these men in order to torture them. This is why there is no evidence of her at their apartments.

“As the areas where the victims lived are spread out, she probably had a different secondary location for each man.” Blake added. “To accomplish this, we expect she has access to significant resources, possibly including other people. If there are others involved, we expect their role is limited to allow our unsub continued control.”

“While staging these killings as suicide has worked as a forensics countermeasure, it also carries deep significance for her.” Prentiss emphasized. “At some point during her abuse, she likely planned or even attempted suicide herself. Making these men die in the way that she had planned for herself is the ultimate act of regaining control over them.”

“At this point, the unsub has likely already moved on to a different city and victim. However, it is important to note that the news surrounding Dr. Marino’s death represents another loss of control. This will likely cause her to speed up her timeline, including seeking out a new victim to torture and kill in an effort to regain control, even if she is still in New York for whatever business brought her here, ” Hotch’s voice was stark as he made this prediction.. “Hopefully, with less time to plan, she makes a mistake that will give us more information to assist in her identification.”

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Hotch successfully managed to sublimate his worry about Reid during the rest of the day at the NYPD by working with the team to try and find a missing piece of the profile that would actually give them something useful for Garcia to use to try and search for their unsub. After a long day with little more to show beyond their initial profile, Prentiss and JJ dragged the team out to the hotel restaurant for a late dinner.

They were gathered around the table finishing up their drinks when Morgan brought up the very thing Hotch was trying so hard to ignore.

“Hey Blake, you notice Professor Pretty Boy is a match for our unsub’s type?”

“Yes, I did,” Blake acknowledged, sipping her wine. “But so do quite a few professors I know. The world of academia is a lot larger than most people realize and professors with multiple doctorate degrees usually only get there from being fairly focused on their work instead of a personal life.”

“Huh.” Prentiss stared down at the last few sips of her cocktail, thinking. “Of course there are a lot of potential victims out there but it’s weird. I’ve never gotten drunk with a potential victim except when undercover before.”

JJ frowned. “Spencer doesn’t really fit her victim’s though. I mean, he tags along to most of our outings since Alex brought him along to that first dinner at Rossi’s. Most of our vics don’t have close friends.”

“Except, as much as I like the kid, I don’t know if any of us really count as  _ friends _ .” Rossi looked directly at Hotch as he spoke, daring his friend to finally speak up about his relationship with the young Professor Reid.

Hotch remained silent, turning the glass with a single shot of whiskey in his hand, grimacing slightly as views of the dead victims assailed his mind, imposing his lover’s face onto theirs. With a silent sigh, he downed the liquor.

“As Alex said, there are a lot of potential victims out there. There is no use worrying about Dr. Reid. Instead, we should focus on trying to get a better sense of our unsub and how she chose her victims. But that will wait until the morning.” Hotch moved to stand up. “I will see you all bright and early. Get a good night’s rest, we all need to be prepared in case another victim is found.”

With that, Hotch walked off, his mind preoccupied with worry for his lover, not noticing the team watching him go.

“Anyone else think this case is getting to Hotch more than usual?” Prentiss murmured as their boss exited the restaurant.

Rossi and Blake shared a concerned look while Morgan and JJ made sounds of agreement.

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Laying in the hotel bed that night, Hotch toyed with his phone before giving in and dialling a number he knew by heart.

“Aaron.” Spencer’s voice flowed out of the phone, the professor not even bothering with greetings after noticing the name on his caller I.D.

“Hey.” Aaron’s body relaxed at the sound of his lover’s voice. “How are you?”

“I am doing well.” Spencer shifted on the couch in his apartment, the hand not holding his phone setting aside the book he had been reading, “It’s been a slow night. I submitted a project I had been working on earlier today, so just relaxing and catching up on some reading. How are you?”

“I’m fine. This case looks like it might take a while.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“We’ve figured out the profile but there are enough important details we are missing and the killer’s range is so wide that trying to narrow it down to find tangible suspects is proving difficult.”

“So you are waiting for another victim.” Spencer said softly, knowing how much that fact disturbed his lover, made him feel guilty and useless.

Aaron grunted in acknowledgement, trying but failing to not imagine Spencer as that next victim.

Spencer listened for a minute, taking in the steady breathing on the other end of the line. “That’s not the only thing bothering you, though.”

With a ragged sigh, Hotch ran a hand through his hair. “It’s these victims. Everyone on the team has victims that bother them more, feel more personal. I thought I had mine figured out – abducted kids and dead mothers.”

Spencer’s soft “uh hmm” reverberated through Aaron, causing the words he had been hiding all day, even from himself, to tumble out, broken and raw.

“They’re  _ you _ , Spencer! Our unsub is killing victims that are just like you and I am struggling to stay professional because in the back of my head, I keep imagining that next victim with your face on it. I can’t go through that again, Spencer. Losing Haley cut me up inside but I’m realizing that losing you? It would break me!”

Silence reigned for a moment then Spencer’s voice came down the line, soft and soothing. “Aaron, I am safe. I am in D.C. and your unsub isn’t coming for me. This isn’t another Foyet and I am not Haley. You will catch them and then come home to pick me up and have a post-case meal with Jack.”

Spencer paused, listening to his lover’s distressed breathing.

“Did you know, Aaron, that whenever you are gone on a case, a part of me is scared. I worry about something happening to you, out there chasing down your unsubs. The thought of you being hurt or worse paralyzes that big brain of mine you and Jack like so much. Sometimes I regret turning Gideon down. If I hadn’t, I might be a part of your team, helping to keep you safe.”

“Spencer…” Aaron groaned, chaotic emotions filling him, his hand clenching with an unbridled desire to bury itself in his lover’s hair while his body wraps itself around the genius’ lithe form and never lets go.

“Hush Aaron, just listen to me.” Spencer interrupted. “I cannot make you stop linking this case to me. I cannot take away your fears. I just want you to know I understand. Completely.

“Besides,” Reid’s voice turned teasing, “I was a twelve year old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school. If I could survive that, I am sure I can survive anything your unsub thinks up while you and your team come to my rescue.”

A chuckle fell from Aaron’s lips, his emotions calming down to pure affection for the young man on the other side of the line.

“Good point.”

“I do make them from time to time.”

“Of course.” Hotch yawned, the long day catching up to him. “It’s time for me to go to bed, Spencer.”

“Good night, Aaron.”

“Good night. And thank you, for understanding. I think there is a good chance I won’t be dreaming of you being the next scholar she sets out to kill.”

With those last words, Hotch hung up, missing the sharp indrawn breath on the other end of the line.


	4. Chapter 4

_ “The slickest way in the world to lie is to tell the right amount of truth at the right time-and then shut up.” _ ― Robert A. Heinlein

Spencer stared at the silent phone cradled in his hand, struggling with the urge to call the agent back and demand details about his last comment.

It had to be a coincidence, the victims being similar to him. Except, with Aaron’s last sentence and the use of the label “scholar,” Reid was struggling to convince himself of the fact he just finished trying to reassure his lover about.

With a muttered curse, he strode back to his room, quickly making his way into his hidden office. Picking up the phone, he dialed a series of numbers he never thought he would have to use again after he stopped his active field work. When the phone stopped ringing, an automated voice told him Cygnus Dental Office was closed but he could leave a message.

“I have a cavity.” Reid said, his voice clipped.

Another beep followed by a brisk, deep voice: “Name?”

“The Scholar, designation alpha-delta-zulu-tango-3-2-4-7-9-foxtrot-sierra. I have reason to suspect my identity is compromised, I need immediate contact with my handler.”

“Hold one moment.”

Reid leaned back in his chair, amused as always by the fact that no matter the organization, hold music was still really irritating.

“Agent Reid, what’s the situation?” The no-nonsense voice of his handler Charlene sounded almost the same as usual. However, Reid could clearly hear the edge of Southern drawl that came out only when she was upset.

“I am at home and as far as I know, safe, for the moment.”

“Okay, then. Why did you use the extraction line?”

“I just finished speaking with Agent Hotchner. He let a few things slip that are concerning.”

“Oh, really?” Charlene’s voice lost the hint of drawl and instead became exasperated, having already told her agent her feelings on his stupidity for getting involved with a professional profiler.

“He mentioned that all the victims of his current case remind him of me. And,” Spencer spoke over his handler’s annoyed huff, “he mentioned me not becoming the next scholar his unsub kills.”

Silence on the other line was all Reid needed to know his own worries were being mirrored and it wasn’t just his paranoia.

“I’m bringing you in.” Charlene finally spoke, the bit of Southern back in her voice. “A car will be by to pick you up in 10 minutes. A picture of the driver and the make, model and license plate was just sent to your emergency phone.”

Pulling out the bottom drawer of the desk, Reid ripped open the large envelope to reveal a cell phone, battery pack, passport and cash.

“Got it. Are we burning this location?”

“Not yet, things are too coincidental at this stage. I’ll send someone to roust the kiddos next door and set up a presence there to keep an eye on things.”

Reid smirked, thinking of the current round of agency interns staying in the apartment next door. He had not been all that impressed with this year’s crop. No one ever realized his role in keeping an eye on them, but at least most assumed there was some level of surveillance going on and acted accordingly. This year’s interns, however, had either been too stupid or too entitled to think about the possibility and had basically spent every hour when not at the Agency acting like stereotypical fraternity boys rather than agents in training. He hoped that if this was all a false alarm and he was able to return to his apartment, the aggravating interns would stay wherever Charlene arranged for them to go, far away from him.

With that hopeful thought, Reid set about gathering the few precious and irreplaceable things he owned, just in case he could not come back.

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As Spencer walked into Langley, he mentally finished composing the unfortunately long list of people that may be out to get him. Having been a part of the Agency for so many years, both as an active field agent and as a behind the scenes analyst, had certainly painted a large target on his back in certain circles. Of course, his codename as well as the Agency’s various security protocols should have protected him, but nothing was infallible.

“Yo, Reid!” A loud voice pulled him from his thoughts. A real smile graced his face as he turned to the woman who had addressed him.

“Jax, how are you?” He took in the bandage on the tall woman’s forehead at the edge of her dark hair.

“No complaints. Heard you got some possible trouble here in the States.” The black-clad woman rose from where she was slouched against the wall and met the lanky genius half-way, pulling him into a quick hug.

Spencer relaxed into the hold of one of his few friends, letting the worry and fear that he had been suppressing since he got off the phone with Hotch rise up for a bit before pulling back.

“I’m not sure. Right now it’s mostly a few facts and a hunch, but enough that it needs to be checked out.”

Jax frowned, taking in the subtle lines of worry on her fellow agent’s face. “I don’t know what set you off but from what I’ve seen so far, it’s more than a hunch.”

“They pulled you in on this?” Spencer was surprised. Agent Jacqueline Bradshaw was one of the best hackers the Agency currently had working as an active field agent.

“Meh, just finished an op in Germany. I’m on mandatory down time while the whole thing is debriefed and I was getting bored. You know how much I hate being bored.”

Spencer grimaced, remembering a time when he was just getting started and one of his jobs had crossed with the other agent’s. They had both been holed up in a safe house in Finland for 3 days during a blizzard and somehow, Jax had convinced him they needed to make their own fireworks out of their meager supplies.

“Well, I certainly appreciate you helping me.” He adjusted his hold on the duffle bag in his hand, turning toward the middle door leading from the entrance. “Let’s go see what you and Charlene have found.”

Twenty minutes later, after pouring over a hundred papers and photos, Spencer sat back in his chair and rested his head in his hands. The sound of typing coming from Jax stopped, prompting Charlene to stop her quiet conversation with an older, balding man who must have entered while Reid was engrossed. All three of turned to look at Reid.

“Sometimes I hate being right,” the genius sighed.

Jax snorted while the man next to Charlene frowned, adjusting his wire-framed glasses.

“It’s better for us to know now that your Scholar identity has been compromised.” Charlene stated briskly, The short, curvy black woman fixed a pointed stare at her agent. “I for one would rather be prepared. There is less of a chance of you ending up dead.”

“Quite.” The balding man agreed. “Now, Agent Reid, I promise you my office will continue to probe into how information about your identity was available outside this agency and if other code names have been compromised.”

“I’m not convinced there was an actual leak of my file, Mr. Hughes. If there had been, one would expect whoever is targeting me would actually have my name and would have come straight for me. Instead, it seems they only have a basic outline of my cover identity.”

“Well, we will keep that in mind but until we’ve ascertained where this information came from, Internal Affairs will be investigating this as a potential breach.” The older man rose from the table, nodding at the rest of the occupants. “Keep us informed of whatever you find.”

“What a tool.” Jax muttered after he left. Charlene shot a disappointed look at the younger woman while Spencer raised his eyebrows, amused.

“Spencer, was there anything in the information we have gathered so far that can pinpoint who we might be dealing with?”

“Not really. While Jax finding the dark web inquiries about information on the Scholar certainly narrowed down the list to someone based in Europe, that is still a rather large pool considering that was where most of my work occurred.”

“I was afraid of that.” Charlene pursed her lips, pondering.

“While I certainly have some suppositions that would further narrow down the list, I am missing key aspects of the current cases that prevent me from being confident in my analysis.”

“Translation - you need to talk with the BAU.” Jax crossed her legs, staring at her friend.

“Yes.” Spencer groaned, knowing it was what needed to happen but aware there was no way he could hide his background - and thus his lies - from the team and his lover.

Silence reigned while the two women took in his reaction.

Charlene nodded. “I’ll set it up. For now, we should get some rest. It’s another 4 hours until I can reasonably get a hold of Chief Strauss and there is nothing to be done until then.”

Spencer nodded absently, his thoughts occupied with thinking through various scenarios of informing the BAU and their possible reactions. No matter what permutation his brain came up with, no situation ended well for him.

“Hey, Spencer.” A combat boot prodded his leg as Jax leaned across the table. “You heard her, go turn in for a bit. Worrying isn’t gonna change whatever happens and your genius brain needs to be firing at 100% tomorrow to figure out the person hunting you.”

“Jax…”

“Yeah, I know, it’s the love of your life and all that, but if you end up dead because your head isn’t in the game, it won’t really matter in the end. As long as you’re alive, there’s a chance to sort things out.”

Spencer’s lips twisted into a half grimace, half smile. “You’re right.” He rose from the table. “I’ll go try and sleep. You coming?”

“Naw. I’ll probably get called in for my own stuff tomorrow so I’m gonna spend a couple more hours trying to backtrack the posts about the Scholar. Now, off to bed with you.”

With a little wave, Spencer headed out the door, skeptical he would be able to get any real sleep but acknowledging that he should at least try. Tomorrow, fateful meeting and all, was going to come whether he wanted it to or not.

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Aaron sat in the hotel lobby, glaring at the empty cup of coffee in his hand. After talking with Spencer the night before, he had fallen into a fitful sleep that had ended with him wide awake and staring at his ceiling over an hour before his alarm was set to go off. Despite his lover’s reassurances, worry had continued to plague him throughout the night. In the grim light of early morning, he could admit to himself that he was overreacting, but even that knowledge couldn’t quell the echos of horror and grief that memories of Haley brought him.

A full cup of coffee was set on the table in front of him.

“Talk to me, Hotch.” Rossi sat across from his friend, concern evident.

Hotch transferred his glare to the other man before sighing. Exchanging the empty cup for the full one, he let his body relax, exhaustion on full display.

“It’s not like you need me to say anything, Dave. You already know what’s bothering me.”

“Sure, but maybe saying it aloud will help.”

Hotch was silent for several moments, sipping the coffee the other man had brought as an obvious bribe.

“I doubt it, but fine.” He conceded, putting the coffee down and rubbing his tired eyes. “This case, these victims and their similarity to Spencer…” He stopped, words lodging in his throat.

“It’s affecting you. That’s perfectly normal, Aaron. We all have cases that hit too close to home, become personal. It’s part of the job.” The Italian’s voice was soft and comforting.

“I know that, Dave. But this feels like more than that.” He paused before admitting in a pained whisper. “I’m getting flashbacks about Haley and Foyet.” 

“Well, hell, Hotch.” Rossi stared at his friend, realization that this was worse than he thought filtering through him. “I could tell you that this isn’t the same, that no matter the kid’s similarity to the victims, our unsub isn’t hunting him down like Foyet did to you and your family. But you already know that, don’t you?”

The baleful look Hotch gave the Italian man was enough of an answer.

“So, what can I do to help you?”

“I don’t know, Dave.” Aaron finished his coffee, thinking. “Honestly, I think the waiting is the hardest part right now. It feels like we’ve done all we can with the information we have now. Until the unsub makes a move on a new victim, there isn’t enough for me to distract myself with.”

“And if she sticks to the same schedule, it might be a couple weeks until that happens.” Rossi mused.

“Exactly!”

Rossi stared at the man in front of him for a few seconds before he frowned. “You think we’ve finished all the work we can do here, but you haven’t talked about us returning to D.C. yet.” Rossi hummed, realization dawning.  “You’re afraid your concern over Reid is compromising your ability to decide when the best time for us to leave is.”

Hotch started, surprised Rossi had caught onto that. “Well, is it?”

“Well, seeing your Professor again is certainly a benefit of going home, but no, you are not compromised. We have done all we can here in New York. Going back is the right call.”

“Okay then.” Hotch finished his coffee in one long gulp, then stood up. “Thanks Dave. Let the rest of the team know to start packing up. I’m going to call Strauss and...”

A ringing phone interrupted him. Pulling out his cell, Hotch’s eyes widened at seeing the Unit Chief’s name on his caller I.D.

“Speak of the devil.” He muttered to Rossi before answering with a curt “Hello?”

“Agent Hotchner, you and your team are to fly back to Quantico right away. I’ve already made the calls to have the jet ready for you in an hour.”

“Chief Strauss, good morning. Do we have another case?”

“No. It appears the CIA has some information regarding your current case. They are prepared to brief your team as soon as you land.” 

“The CIA?”

Rossi raised an eyebrow at that.

“Yes, I just got off the phone with them, they were insistent on meeting in person before passing along their information.”

Exasperation was obvious in her voice. Obviously she had tried to get whoever had called her to reveal their information over the phone, thought Hotch.

“Thank you for the update, Chief Strauss. Shall I let you know when we land?”

“Of course, Agent Hotchner.” With that, the phone went dead.

“What was that about the CIA?” Rossi inquired, rising from his seat.

“Apparently, they requested to meet with us about our current case. We’ve been recalled back to D.C.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Very. Let’s go round up the rest of the team, we have a flight to catch.”

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While the BAU normally worked out of Quantico, Agent Addams had relayed through Chief Strauss that the team should come to Langley for the debrief. The agent had also politely informed the Section Chief that only those actively part of the team were invited, effectively barring the too-curious woman from the proceedings, much to her displeasure. This was made even worse by the fact that one Miss Penelope Garcia had then been invited by name since she “was vital to the active investigations of the team.” Given his already strained relationship with the Section Chief, Hotch was not looking forward to the ways Strauss would find to take this slight out on him and his team.

“I can’t believe we’re going to the real CIA!” Garcia was practically bouncing in the back seat of the SUV holding her, Hotch, Morgan and Prentiss, while the rest of the team was in an identical car behind them. “Do you think we’ll meet real life spies?”

“What, like James Bond?” Morgan scoffed. “Momma, you know we go undercover all the time and Prentiss was part of that crazy Interpol scheme. It’s nothing like in the movies.”

Garcia reached over and lightly slapped him. “No, no ruining my fun!”

Prentiss laughed from the front seat. “Yeah Morgan. Besides, sometimes it can be a little bit like the movies.” She winked at Garcia before turning back to watch as the SUV neared the gates to the George Bush Center for Intelligence, aka Langley.

“Alright, children, let’s try to pretend we are competent professionals, shall we?” Hotch called dryly before rolling down the window and identifying himself for the guard.

By the time they were walking into the building where the guards had directed them, the playful banter had faded away and the tension it had been covering rose up again. Even with zero hints of what Agent Addams had brought them here to discuss, the team knew it wasn’t good. Having the CIA involved in an FBI case rarely was.

A short plump woman met them in the building lobby, her dark skin complementing the vivid blue suit she wore, her black hair left in tight curls cut close to her scalp.

“Agent Hotchner, hello. I’m Charlene Addams. Thank you for agreeing to have your team meet me here.”

“Of course, Agent Addams.” The two shook hands and then Hotch introduced the rest of the team. Agent Addams shook each of their hands, her serious face only changing for a brief moment as a smiled flitted across her face on meeting the colorful programmer. Once the introduction were done, Hotch leveled the CIA agent with a subtly expectant look.

“I understand you have information relevant to our current case?”

“Yes, though a fellow agent will be the one filling you in. He’s waiting in the conference room.” With those words, she turned and strode out of the lobby, obviously expecting the team to follow.

A quick glance was shared among the BAU members before they moved along. They had all noticed that they had not been given the name of the person they were supposed to be meeting.

“Curiouser and curiouser.” Dave muttered under his breath as he walked next to Hotch. The other agent simply frowned, tension obvious in his body. Then they were being lead into a hallway and waved into a conference room. Hotch took one look at the man standing at the end of the table and froze.  _ Spencer _ .

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Spencer paced the length of the conference room Charlene had requisitioned for their meeting with the BAU once they had heard from Strauss when the team would be landing in D.C. Ever since he had woken up and found that Jax had been called away to her own briefings and it would be just him and Charlene meeting the BAU team, a tight knot of anxiety had settled in his stomach. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of whoever was out there hunting him, that was something that came with the job. No, instead he was afraid of losing the life he had been building for himself, the deep love and companionship he had never experienced before and hadn’t realized meant so much to him until he was in danger of losing. As he paced, his mind played out the hundreds of memories he had of his time with Aaron, perfectly captured down to the last detail. But now, instead of those welcome smiles and sweet moments, his lover’s face was twisted in betrayed confusion.

He heard Charlene’s practical heels clicking down the hallway outside and with one last silent plea that things would turn out alright, he went to stand at the table, his hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him to keep them from fluttering uselessly at his sides.

Then the door was opening and Aaron walked in, his eyes immediately landing on Spencer. Confusion and shock chased across the man’s face before  a cold, blank gaze settled into place. In that moment, Spencer could swear he heard his heart break.

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Of course, it was Morgan who broke the stunned silence. 

“What the...Kid? What are you doing here?”

“Ah, well, you see, I…” Spencer stuttered, unable to look any of the BAU in the eye.

“Doctor Reid, while now working predominantly as a consultant, has been an esteemed agent with the Agency for many years.” Charlene’s voice cut through the stammering. “Now, let us all take a seat and get started.”

Blake looked at her fellow professor and friend of over three years, taking in his obvious discomfort. With a quiet sigh, she walked around the table to where he stood and, without pausing, picked his hands up from their tight grip on the chair in front of him. Wrapping her own hands around his, she used them to turn him toward her.

“Spencer,” she said softly, drawing the man’s gaze up to her. “I always knew there was more to you than you ever shared, but this is certainly a surprise.”

“Alex…” The man’s voice was equally quiet, his eyes darting over each member of the BAU team as they arranged themselves around the table but remained standing. His gaze landed on Hotch again and the young man looked away, anguish flashing across his face. “I would have told you, all of you, if I could. Please believe me.”

“Hell, kid, if anyone knows the sacrifices we make for the job, it’s us.” Rossi commented, his gaze moving between the two lovers, taking in Reid’s fearful hesitancy and Hotch’s confused betrayal. 

Oblivious to the reason behind the sudden tension, the rest of the team was reacting to the clear anxiety felt by their favorite nerdy professor and apparent CIA agent. 

“Oh, oh, of course, Boy genius! it’s not like any of us blame you for not telling any of us you were a real life spy!” Garcia clattered around the table to the opposite side of Ried from Blake and wrapped the young man in a quick hug.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy. And let’s be real - if you had told us, we probably wouldn’t have believed you.” Morgan’s smile grew at the glare that Reid sent his way, glad to see the nerves starting to disappear.

“Well, I don’t know.” Prentiss joined in, tilting her head and raking her eyes over Reid. “I can kind of see it - I mean, he certainly has the smarts for it.”

JJ nodded along. “Plus, that innocent face and brainy-but-helpless act he pulls whenever he doesn’t want to go out drinking with us are pretty well practiced. Probably let him waltz up to people and have them spilling state secrets left and right.”

“Guys, that’s not how it works at all!” Reid protested, incredulous.

“Well, no, I am sure it’s not, but it’s a fun image to think about.” Blake smiled as she pulled out a chair. With that, the rest of the team moved to take a seat.

Hotch was moving on autopilot, his mind whirling. His Spencer, lovely, quirky Spencer who spouted random and ridiculous facts, insisted Aaron’s gun was always locked away whenever they were in the house with Jack, cried when Bambi’s mom was killed, and hated driving more than almost anything in the world, worked for the CIA. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t reconcile those words with the man he thought he knew. A chill was rising in him as he realized that Spencer had lied to him about something so important. While a part of his brain was reminding him that there were plenty of good reasons for his lover to keep his other job a secret, including national security, it was being drowned out by the thought that if Spencer had lied about one thing without him noticing, how was he to know what else he’d lied about?

Charlene’s voice cut through his conflicted thoughts.

“I am sure there is much you would like to discuss with Doctor Reid, but it is important we get to the reason you are here.”

With that, the team’s focus shifted, because suddenly, things started to slot into place.

“It’s not a coincidence the victims of our current case are like Reid.” Rossi voiced the realization that had filled the entire team.

“No, it’s not. My codename is the Scholar and your unsub is hunting me.” The Reid that sat in front of the BAU now was nothing like the anxious friend they had just been speaking with, nor the shy genius the team had met through Blake two years ago, or the playful, unconventional young man they had all becomes friends with. This was Agent Reid, brilliant but serious and, the members of the BAU realized, confident in his role.

“The Scholar, you think it’s a reference to you, not just a nod at our victims being academics?” Blake knew it was true even as she asked, but she needed to hear it confirmed.

“I know that’s the case. Last year between August 2nd and October 29th, requests for information about a US operative codenamed the Scholar started circling various sites on the more shadowy parts of the internet as well as areas of the darknet, or at least  some of the ones we have access to. They were posted using different accounts and geotags, but the wording seems to be too similar to not be from the same person. The last post was on October 29th. Your first victim was killed on January 28th and the suicide note, as you are aware, references The Scholar.”

“Do you have any idea who our unsub is?” Morgan leaned forward, hoping it was that simple.

“No.” Reid shook his head before continuing. “The analyst we had working on this before she was needed on another project was able to trace several of the posts back to various locations in Eastern Europe. During my time with the Agency, I have had a hand in 79 operations that took place in Eastern Europe. I played a significant role in 42 of those but was actually in the field for only 23 of them. Most lasted for only a few days, but two were more lengthy. Of course, we have no way of knowing right now which, if any, of these operations are related to your unsub.”

Rossi whistled while Prentiss, JJ and Morgan looked impressed. “Hell, Kid, that’s a lot of potential enemies.”

“It should have been none.” Charlene spit out, anger flavoring her voice with a bit of Southern twang. “The Agency is looking into how his codename was leaked and that might help narrow things down. However, while this killer is roaming around, Agent Reid and all the very important work he does for this country, are in jeopardy. We want this taken care of as quickly as possible. While we cannot reveal the nature of each of those missions to your team, it has been decided that Dr. Reid will be seconded to the FBI for the duration of this case in order to provide his knowledge and expertise as he deems appropriate.”

The members of the BAU exchanged grins, having imagined in the past the many ways the genius could help them during cases.

“However,” Reid’s handler leveled a strict look at every member of the team, causing Garcia to squeak when it swept over her. “In exchange for his assistance, your team will be tasked with keeping my agent safe.”

A murmur of agreements and “of course!” filled the room. With a nod, Charlene rose from the table.

“Wonderful. I will show you out. Agent Reid, I expect updates daily.” Once again, the woman strode out the door without allowing anyone to respond.

“She likes to have the last word, doesn’t she?” Rossi remarked to Spencer as the team stood and shuffled to follow the imposing woman.

“Yep.” Spencer grinned, relieved at how well the team had taken the news and how everyone seemed to treat him the same. Then his eyes landed on Aaron, still seated at the table, his face blank. Nerves and fear came rushing back in.

“Aaron?” He asked, taking a tentative step toward the man.

Hotch’s head snapped up, his eyes boring into Reid’s. No sound was uttered for several moments before the older man shoved back his chair and rose, body stiff and guarded.

“Welcome to the team, Doctor Reid.” His voice was professional and contained, no emotion leaking through. He quickly walked by the gaping man.

“Aaron, wait!” Spencer’s hand shot out, grabbing hold of his lover’s shoulder, trying and failing to turn the man to face him. Hotch moved, pulling himself away from the touch.

“Later.” This time, the agent’s voice was shaking and harsh, the tangled emotions that were warring inside of him showing. “We can talk about this later. Not now, not here.”

With that, he stalked out the door to follow the rest of the team, missing the devastation that filled his lover’s face and the saddened look Rossi sent his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, I cast Erica Cerra as Jax  
> http://cdn5.thr.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/NFE_portrait/2011/08/ericacerra_a_p.jpg


	5. Chapter 5

_ “To know that one has a secret is to know half the secret itself.” _ – Henry Ward Beecher

When the team arrived back to Quantico with Reid in tow, Hotch was immediately summoned to Chief Strauss’ office. Upon his exit, an invisible tension within the room eased. While the rest of the BAU team moved about their office without noticing it, Rossi watched the slumping of  Spencer’s shoulders and shared a grim look with Blake.

“Alright, Boy Wonder, hand it over!” Garcia snapped her fingers before holding out an imperious hand, tapping her bright green pumps.

“What? How did you…” Reid spluttered, reaching into his messanger bag while the rest of the team focused on the two with some confusion.

“Puh-lease! I’m may not be a profiler but I know you, Dr. Reid, are not one to tease a woman.” Her lips formed a cute pink pout. “You brought me into that big reveal meeting for more than just my bright and beautiful presence. You dangled hints about some lovely darknet hacking that I know wasn’t completed and expect me to just forget about it? Nuh-uh, no way that’s happening! C’mon, give it up to Mama so I can return to my lovelies and work my magic!”

Reid laughed as he pulled a medium sized external hard-drive from his bag. “I should have known you would catch that. Here you go.” He had barely moved to hand it to her when it was snatched out of his hands but her brightly manicured fingers and she was clutching it to her chest like the most precious gift she had ever received.

“Awww, I knew you would be my favorite!” With a quick movement forward, the tech analyst dropped on kiss on Spencer’s cheek before whirling around and rushing toward her office, the click of her heels beating a determined staccato on the floor.

“I guess we won’t be seeing her for awhile.” JJ’s voice was amused as she watched Spencer rubbing at the lipstick mark on his face. 

Laughter rippled across the watching team members before Blake cleared her throat and nodded toward the conference room. “We should probably get to work as well.”

The group moved to the conference room and settled in their usual seats, Reid taking Hotch’s empty place unbeknownst to him.

“So, kid, what didn’t you tell us back at Langley?” Rossi leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers as he eyed the young man.

“Um, a lot? I mean, I’ve been working for the agency for almost 20 years so, yeah, there’s a lot I can’t tell you.”

Morgan whistled. “Damn kid, that would have made you, what? Eighteen when you started?”

“Um, seventeen actually but I wasn’t doing more than some simple training until I turned eighteen. But, guys, none of that is relevant to what’s going on now.”

“Okay, that’s probably true, but seriously Spence, after all this is over, you’re gonna have to tell us about your secret double life!” JJ smiled, her eyes twinkling. “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you, who was frightened by changing Henry’s diaper, are some big important intelligence officer.”

“Hey!” Reid squawked, blushing, “The one has nothing to do with the other! I had never even held a baby before.”

The team laughed, happy to see that the young, awkward genius they had come to care about remained the same, despite these new revelations. When silence descended, though, the brief moments of levity had passed.

“So,” Prentiss spoke, her tone serious. “How should we start?”

“Tell me the profile.” Reid requested. So they did.

Half an hour later, Hotch slipped into the room and pulled an extra chair up to the table next to Rossi. He sat, quietly, as Reid took in the profile, questioning how they came to one conclusion or another, reviewing the evidence for the cases on a tablet Blake had handed him while they talked about what they had learned from the bodies, the apartments, the notes. Aaron didn’t say anything, letting the rest of his team do the talking. Instead, he watched his lover, trying to see how this man in front of him, the CIA agent, was any different from the professor he had known. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t find any differences. 

The genius still held the tablet awkwardly, clearly unhappy with the technology. He still tapped his lip when something sparked that powerful memory of his, eyes going distant for a brief second as he sorted it into place with the rest of the facts. And the man still glanced over at him, a soft smile gracing his face. At least, for a moment. Then Spencer’s face would shutter close and he would glance away, unable to look at Hotch for more than a second or two. That was the only thing that Hotch could see was different about the young man. 

As it happened for the third time, Spencer looking away and directing a question toward Blake, Hotch clenched his fist in his lap, trying to quell the distress inside him. He knew that change had nothing to do with Reid being a CIA agent. Instead, it had everything to do with his relationship with Hotch and this new uncertainty surrounding it. As much as a part of Aaron wanted to reach out to his lover and reassure him that everything would okay, that nothing would change, he knew he wouldn’t. Because now, more than ever, he couldn’t tell the younger man a lie.

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After an hour and a half of dissecting the profile and the evidence from the cases, Rossi called a halt to the discussion and told everyone to take a break for a late lunch. He then proceeded to haul Hotch into his office under the guise of wanting an update on his meeting with Strauss.

“You need to get a handle on yourself or else step away from this case.” The other agent didn’t pull his punches.

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Hotch growled, pacing in the small office. “It’s just...hell Dave, just yesterday you said this wasn’t like Foyet and you’re right, it’s not, but it’s still someone hunting someone I love except now, I don’t even know if the person I love even exists!”

Hotch collapsed onto one of the seats and dropped his head into his hands as he let out a harsh, wounded noise.

He continued, voice now an anguished whisper. “You know, our anniversary is next week? Jack found out and practically ordered me to plan a nice date for Spencer. He apparently wants us to get married.”

“Well, hell.” Dave slouched in his chair, wishing fervently that it was after work hours so he could pour them both a drink.

“Yeah. I promised myself, after Haley, that I would never put Jack in harm’s way again, Dave. Now this happened and the man my son loves and wants as his stepfather has this entire secret life that has a killer after him. How do I keep him, both of them, safe when I keep failing so miserably?”

Screw work hours, Dave thought, rising to grab two glasses and pouring them each a shot from the bottle of whiskey he kept in his desk.

“Aaron, look, I am the last person to talk to you about parenting but I know that you are anything but a failure. You love your son and work everyday to protect him. He, his aunt Jessica, everyone on this team knows that. If you are worried about Jack’s safety, then all us will do anything and everything we can to help.” Rossi leaned against the edge of his desk and took a sip of his drink before continuing. 

“But as an expert at screwing up when you’re in love, I am not about to let you throw away something that I have watched return to you happiness and a delight for life.”

Hotch looked up, startled by his friend’s words. “So, what, I’m just supposed to pretend like things are the same as they were before, when he was lying to me and putting me and my son in danger without me knowing about it?”

“No, of course not. But that’s also not what happened Aaron, and you know it. So here is what is going to happen. Tonight, we are going to finish early. I’m gonna take the kid back to my place. You are gonna go home and spend time with your son. And then, after your kid goes to sleep, you are going to take some time to yourself to actually think things through. Because tomorrow? You need to have a handle on this or else call in sick because you and I both know you can’t work like this.”

Hotch scowled before tipping his head back and downing the rest of his drink in one go. “One day, you’re going to stop being right most of the time.” He sighed, putting the empty glass down. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

Rossi reached forward, resting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m glad you see it my way. just remember, this is always better than Plan B, which would have been going behind your back to tell the rest of the team about you and Spencer and then letting the ladies sort the two of you out.”

Hotch sputtered, amused horror filling him as he imagined that scenario. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, Aaron, all’s fair in love and friendship. I most certainly would.”

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When the team reconvened after lunch, Reid voiced what had been on his mind since he had heard the initial profile the BAU had come up with in New York.

“We need to rethink the profile.”

“While no profile is ever completely accurate, what is it about this one that strikes you as wrong?” Blake asked.

“It’s a good profile, and most of it is likely true, but the initial premise on which it was built was incorrect.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan asked, confusion obvious in his face.

“You treated this like your usual American serial killers, someone who likely has a regular life outside of their role as a killer that they participate in day to day. Instead, we know the unsub is likely a woman who has come to this country with the sole purpose of finding and torturing The Scholar.”

“He’s right.” Prentiss exclaimed, nodding toward the pictures arrayed on the board they had put up during their previous discussion. “Which means that these victims weren’t surrogates. They were a case of mistaken identity.”

“Well, that explains why she keeps the victims for a couple days. It’s not just about torturing for control, it’s also about gaining information.” Hotch stated quietly, eyes on the table.

“Or a confession.” Rossi added

“It’s also why their laptops were missing.” JJ stated, pointing out the detail they had never been able to figure out. “She, or someone she is working with, is looking for evidence that they found the real Scholar.”

“Whoever that is, it’s probably the same person who placed the online inquires the CIA tracked.” Blake mused.

“It’s probably also the person compiling information on possible targets.” Reid pointed out. “The unsub is hunting based on specific information she has about me, not just choosing people she encounters who fulfill the role of a surrogate. She traveled to different locations across the U.S. for each of these kills. She had to have an idea about her victims before she even arrived at each place, or else why waste the time and resources?”

“Fuck!” Morgan swore, pulling out his phone, pressing one of the speed dial numbers. “Baby girl, get your beautiful behind up to the conference room!”

Garcia ran in not long after, looking miffed.  “Alright my lovelies, what was so important you had to drag me away from my oh-so-powerful assault on the information our dear Dr. Reid gave me?”

“Garcia, do you think you could identify the work of the one who made the posts the CIA tracked?” Hotch demanded.

“Well of course, my fearless leader! I mean, whoever made these posts is most definitely not an amateur, which, while it sounds backwards, is actually super helpful for identifying them. You see, all coders, well, hackers really, have a signature, something that identifies them to the rest of the community. Remember that one case, where I had to pretend to be me, but, like, the old, bad me?”

“Baby girl.” Derek interrupted. “We think whoever set up those posts also used their skills to cyber stalk our victims. They likely hacked their way into various parts of their lives, like their bank accounts, work email, so on.”

“Oh! You want me to see if I can find if they did that and then back track it, right?”

“Can you do that?” Reid asked, curious.

“Moi?! Of course I can do that, my sweet-cheeked doctor. In fact, I can get started right now!” She turned toward the door before spinning back around. “That is, unless you needed me for something else?”

“No, Penelope, I think that was it.” JJ smiled.

“Great! Alright, I’ll just go get on that and then let you know as soon I find something!”

The team smiled as the technical analyst left the room in the same colorful ball of energy she had entered.

“So, that might help lead us to our unsub’s location, but it still doesn’t answer the main question of who we are dealing with.” Rossi noted, looking around the room. “Kid, I think you need to start opening up about the work you did over in Eastern Europe.”

Spencer sighed, realizing he had put this off long enough. “Look, I can’t go into details, at least not unless we figure out the exact mission that is related to this case.”

“You can’t tell me that big brain of yours hasn’t already identified the most likely ones.” Prentiss prodded.

“Well, yes, of course I have my suspicions, but I haven’t been able to narrow it down past eight likely operations, and that’s still too many.”

“So, break them down for us.” Blake encouraged calmly. “You don’t have to go into details, just give us some basic overview. Maybe talking through it will help.”

“Okay,” Spencer frowned, thinking for a moment before he sat forward and began, his hands moving through the air as he spoke.

“So, the operations basically break down into three types of targets - organized crime, foreign governmental officials or our own government officials who got themselves inappropriately involved in one or the other. For the eight cases I am thinking about, I was onsite, but only in one did I actually have contact with anyone we were actively targeting. Usually, I work more in background, gathering and analyzing information as well as strategic planning, rather than direct infiltration or confrontation.”

Morgan frowned. “Wait a minute, if you only had contact with people during one of these, why are you even considering the other seven?”

Reid blushed. “Because it’s actually the least likely one - a particular government official involved in a small underground gay sex ring that was attempting to extort state secrets from him. As far as I know, there were no women involved in the entire thing. Also, it happened closer to the start of my time with the agency, so the timeline is pretty long. The only reason I am still considering it is because of the sex trafficking component.”

Hotch stood suddenly, unable to stay still as his mind filled in the gaps of what Spencer wasn’t saying about his involvement going undercover for this particular case when he was likely barely twenty years old, if that.

“I need some coffee. Anyone else want something?” He barely waited to hear the responses before he strode from the room, feeling his nails dig into his palms where he clenched his hands at his side, letting the sting distract him from the roiling nausea he felt. He needed to regain his control.

Spencer watched with wide eyes, realizing what had happened. While he was saddened that his words had caused such distress in the man, he was also a little hopeful. If Aaron was so affected, then there was a chance he still cared for him and maybe, there was still a way to salvage their relationship.

Reid was so focused on Hotch, he missed the looks that passed around the rest of the team, who were equally appalled by the story they had just heard but also, in the case of Morgan, Prentiss and JJ, curious about their boss’ reaction.

After Hotch came back with mugs and a full carafe, the rest of the afternoon devolved into what an observer might have called a particularly vague form of twenty questions. Reid gave nonspecific descriptions about the other seven operations the profile had pulled to the front of his mind, and various members of the team kept trying to gather information they could actually use. Of course, most of the questions were met with a shake of the CIA agent’s head and a simple “classified.” By the time Hotch told the team to take an early afternoon, they were all more than ready for a break.

When Spencer made as if he was going to follow Hotch from the conference room, Rossi pulled the man into his office.

“Reid, I know you want to talk with Aaron but right now he needs some space.”

Spencer eyed him before sighing and taking a seat. “So, what, I just wait for him to be ready to talk about this, about us?”

“No. You give him tonight to go home, see his son, and take some time to think. Then you come back and work with us on this case and show him that you are still the same man. Then, when it’s all over and we’ve caught our unsub, then you talk with him.”

The young man sighed and adjusted his messenger back, shuffling his feet. “I guess I’m not staying with him, then, am I?”

“Nope, kid, you’re coming home with me. And I am going to show you how to make Aaron’s favorite pasta.”

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After dinner, Rossi cleaned up the mess in the kitchen while Reid called his handler and filled her in on the little progress they had made. Then, the two men retired to Rossi’s porch, the genius wrapped in a warm blanket on a comfortable chaise, while the older man had threw on a sweater in deference to the cooler evening air and leaned back in a chair.

“Kid, I know this is hard for you but honestly, this is a lot for Aaron to take in.”

“Oh, I get that the whole ‘by the way, I used to be an active CIA field agent and still consult for them’ is a bit of a bombshell, but everyone else seems to be taking it in stride and treating me like normal. I don’t need him to do even that. I just want Aaron to give me some sign that just maybe, we can make it through this.”

Rossi hummed, taking in the man’s dejected tone. “Spencer, you know Aaron better than any of us. This is what he does - he retreats into himself to sort how he feels. I mean, it took him months to admit that he liked you and from what he’s mentioned to me, it wasn’t until he landed in the ER that he even told you his feelings.”

Reid blushed. “He told you about that!”

“I may have pushed him a little into revealing some things one night after we had a few drinks after a rough case.” 

This admission drew a quiet chuckle from the genius before silence reigned for a few minutes.

Reid sank back into his seat, wrapping the blanket around him even tighter, staring up at the stars. “What if it’s not just a little space he needs, Dave? What if he can’t accept this part of me and this is it, we’re over.”

“Is that what you think is going to happen?”

Spencer shrugged. “You know, I didn’t realize our first date was actually a date? I thought he was just being nice to me, since I had just come back from visiting my mom and was feeling depressed. It wasn’t until we were at the restaurant and he had ordered some wine that I noticed how nervous he was. That’s when I realized it wasn’t just a nice dinner between friends.”

The Italian man shifted, turning toward the other man as he continued speaking softly.

“Some days, I still can’t believe that he loves me. The only person who’s ever really loved me was my mom but, well, that’s different.”

Dave snorted. “I would hope so!”

The younger man glared at him before turning back up to the night sky. “It’s just, even when he told me he loved me, when he introduced me to Jack as his boyfriend, I always knew I was hiding this big secret from him. A part of me didn’t want him to ever find out, so that he would just keep loving me. Now that he knows, that same part of me is convinced he’s going to decide I’m not worth it.”

“Ah, love.” The Italian man intoned dramatically. “We love to be in love, but what a scary place to be. Look, Spencer, I can’t tell you what Aaron’s going to do. Even I can’t predict the future. But I do know that no matter how much he’s struggling with his feeling right now, he does still love you.”

Spencer sighed, feeling equal parts hopeful and afraid. “I hope you’re right, Dave.”

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The next day in the conference room, JJ was the first to speak.

“We’re going about this the wrong way.”

“Whaddya mean?” Morgan asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his feet at the ankles.

“It’s not about what CIA operation Reid was involved in. There is no way we are ever going to be able to figure that out with the evidence we have. No, it’s about our unsub - just her. We need to focus on the people - the women - of those operations. One of them fits our profile and when we find her, we find our unsub.

Not surprisingly, the rest of the team agreed, grimly realizing they had gotten caught up in the thrill of mysterious CIA missions and lost sight of their main target.

“So, Doctor Reid, let’s put that memory of yours to the test.” Prentiss said, a challenging spark in her eye.

With a new focus, the team once again went over the profile, Spencer closing his eyes and taking it all in for the second time.

“A woman, someone who can work below the radar here in the US for months without being missed, so likely not a government official, or at least not anymore.” Prentiss began. “But someone who has resources available to them, either from family or business. Likely educated to some extent and with a decent fluency in English.”

“Sexually abused throughout her childhood, but she would have been an adult when you crossed paths and that would have been in her past. Instead, she was likely in some role of power but not the spotlight, that can be too unpredictable and she needed the control.” Morgan spoke next.

Blake was third, her eyes watching her friend as his fingers started moving in a pattern on his thigh. “Killing isn’t new to her. She’s done this before, many times. Maybe not in this exact manner, but she likely almost always targeted men.”

“She’s likely single, or if she has been married, she was likely very quickly widowed.” Rossi added dryly. “No children, she is not someone who would ever carry a pregnancy to term. If she has any living family, she likely ignores them or adores them. They would likely be dead if she hates them.”

JJ nodded before picking up the recitation of the profile. “She would make herself as attractive as possible, with clothes, make-up, shoes, all the tricks women use. She would consider it another way of exerting control. However, she is likely considered aloof or cold, only bothering to be charming when she needed to be for a particular situation.”

Hotch was the last of the team to speak, watching the man he loved run through memories of things Aaron had no reference for. While he had listened to Rossi’s advice the night before and gone home to think, he was still feeling conflicted by the morning. His mixed-up emotions, combined with a bone deep exhaustion from little to no sleep the last few days, had made him briefly consider calling in sick. But ultimately, he was determined to not let his team down and had pushed it all aside, coming into work and trying to act like it was any other day.

“Whatever your role was in the operation involving her, she would see it as key to a period where her established means of control were ripped away. The fact that you didn’t know who she was right away, though, means that she likely wasn’t the main target but instead, someone greatly affected by whatever happened.”

Silence fell over the table, then Reid opened his eyes.

“I need to go to Langley.”

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Blake ended up being the one who went with Spencer to the CIA headquarters, leaving the rest of the team at loose ends while they waited to hear about whatever it was Reid had figured out.

Morgan went to go check on what Garcia had found, where he was quickly kicked out for being a “too handsome distraction.” Though, really, his nervous pacing and repetitive questions of what she had found every few seconds likely played a larger role than his smouldering good looks.

JJ and Prentiss went to the gym to work out for a bit, as well as catch up on the Quantico gossip in an attempt to distract themselves.

Rossi pulled up his email, figuring he could at least clear out his inbox, and very quickly got sidetracked by the multitude of time wasting distractions the internet held.

Hotch locked himself in his office, determined to finally come to a decision about what to do about his relationship with one Professor, slash CIA Agent, Spencer Reid. Instead, he ended up brooding for the next few hours.

It was well past lunchtime when Reid and Blake returned and gathered the team, including Garcia.

Reid put a picture on the board, a close up candid shot of a beautiful dark haired woman in a skin-tight red dress.

“The unsub is Yuliya Savaryn. I was part of an op in Kiev three years ago to take down her half-brother, Dmitri Andreiko, and his organization, which was selling stolen American military equipment to various groups, including terrorists. Andreiko was killed when the strike team moved on his base of operations. Savaryn fell off the grid after that.”

“What makes you sure this is our unsub?”

“We could never quite figure out Savaryn’s role in the organization. What we did know was that she and Andreiko had been raised apart after their parents died in a car accident when they were quite young. That changed when Savaryn was fifteen and Andreiko was just starting to work in the arms world. At that time, Savaryn’s guardian and uncle was shot several times, including in the genitals, and Savaryn went to live with Andreiko. The uncle was known to be a part of organized crime in Kiev, so his murder was attributed to a rival crime syndicate.”

“If he was the one abusing Savaryn, it could have been her.” JJ breathed out.

Morgan shook his head. “My money's on the brother. He probably found out what was going on.”

Spencer continued, ignoring the interruption. “From that point on, the two were basically inseparable. Savaryn was present at every meeting we were able to witness, but from all accounts she never participated, just sat there and watched. The one time she did anything else was when a man apparently attempted to grope her, at which point she asked her brother to kill him, which Andreiko did.”

“Woah!” Garcia exclaimed, “I am all for protective older brothers, but honey, that is taking it too far!”

Reid flashed a quick smile at the woman. “There was also a rumor that she was the one who questioned anyone who crossed Andreiko, but we could never find any proof.”

“So, she played the pretty arm piece but was likely much more involved.” Rossi surmised.

“That was always our thought.” Reid agreed. “However, she wasn’t present during the raid and never cropped back up in the many different parts of the Eastern European underground, so that theory was set aside.”

“And now she’s hear, hunting you down.” Prentiss’ words were pointed. “So I doubt she was in retirement all those years and your Agency dropped the ball.

Hotch spoke over Morgan’s snort of agreement. “Alright, so we think we’ve found our unsub. Do we have any idea where she is?”

Reid shook his head. “Charlene - um, that is, Agent Addams - is working with the Agency to see what they can find on her movements for the last few years and maybe pinpoint when and how she entered the country.”

“While I’m sure that’s helpful and all, Pretty Boy, that really doesn’t give us anything about her current location.” Morgan’s sarcasm made it obvious he thought the CIA’s approach was the exact opposite of helpful.

“I got the impression they were leaving that part up to us, at least officially.” Blake mentioned, having kept quiet about the trip to the CIA HQ until now. “Agent Addams pointed out that when it comes to their scope of jurisdiction inside the US, they are limited.”

“Ah yes, the party line.” Rossi stated dryly. “Let’s all pretend the CIA operates outside the US borders and forget about all the times we have seen evidence to the contrary.”

Spencer frowned around the table, fidgeting. “You guys do know I am still part of the CIA, right? And, I mean, I really can’t talk about any of that.”

“Yeah, yeah, Spence, we know.” JJ patted his hands. “We wouldn’t ask you to confirm or deny anything we all already know is true.”

The young man ducked his head, hiding his amused smile behind his hair.

“Well, Boy Genius, never fear!” Garci proclaimed, bringing her pen down imperiously on the table before pointing it at Ried. “The great and powerful moi has got you covered! I have already been able to find the breadcrumbs our elusive hacker left in the lives of our poor prior victims. Of course, back tracking those signals only lead me to her old locations, but now that I have a name and a face to go with the code, I can work my magic!”

“Thank you, Penelope. Just so you know, I took a quick look back through the information we have on Savaryn and nothing points to her being a skilled hacker. While she could have picked up the skill since the time we lost track of her, it’s more likely that she is working with someone else, either a partner or, more likely, someone she hired.”

“So, we have a hacker for hire, then, ‘cuz the complexity of the code is way too experienced for someone who just picked it up a year ago.” Garcia agreed.

“Alright, Garcia, go return to your office and keep us updated on anything you find.” Hotch ordered.

As the technical analyst left the room, Hotch turned back to Reid.

“Now, tell us everything you can about Savaryn.”

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By the time evening rolled around, the team was no closer to finding the elusive Ukrainian woman than they had been before they even had a name. The only thing Garcia had been able to find so far was that Reid’s University accounts, along with five other local professors, had been hacked by the elusive coder. She had run into a dead-end though, having backtracked the signal to a hole-in-the wall cafe in Queens, New York. While the team sent the information along to the police they had worked with in NYC, they were still on edge and frustrated, arguing with Hotch when he ordered everyone but the technical analyst to go home.

“We aren’t making any progress and we need to be fresh in the morning if Garcia finds something.” He explained for what felt like the third time when faced with Morgan’s mullish look.

“Fine, Hotch, but what about Reid? We know that she has already pinpointed him as a possible target. What are we doing about it?”

“Morgan, Rossi and I will take care of Reid for tonight. If it makes you feel any better, you can talk with him again about extra protection in the morning, but considering how well that conversation went today, I doubt you will get anywhere.”

Morgan scowled, reminded of his lengthy argument with the genius about letting the FBI put him up in a safe house. Reid had been adamant that not only could he take care of himself - “Morgan, I am a trained CIA agent, even if I haven’t been in the field for the last two years.” -  but that Savaryn wouldn’t attempt to attack him when he was staying at Rossi’s place for the second night in a row, since she wouldn’t have had time to plan it in the way her need for control demanded. Morgan ended up having to grudgingly agree with that point.

“Fine, Hotch, but if anything happens to him, I am holding you personally responsible.” With that, the agent stalked out of the office.

Hotch sighed, idly wondering what Morgan would do if he knew what Hotch had planned for the evening. Whatever it would have been, it likely would not have been pleasant. With that thought in his mind, he turned toward Rossi’s office where his friend and his lover were waiting for him, knowing that even though he hadn’t even managed to start figuring out all his feeling surrounding Reid’s revelation of his secret career, he had avoided the conversation he needed to have with his lover for as long as he could.

“Spencer.”

The young man looked up, taking in the man standing in Rossi’s doorway before sighing and standing up. This wasn’t Hotch, Unit Chief. No, this was Aaron, the man he loved and was afraid he may have lost. With a quick glance at Rossi, he took the few steps needed to bring him almost chest to chest with the slightly shorter man.

“I know we have to talk, but let’s not do this here, okay?”

“Of course Spencer.” With that, Hotch turned and Reid followed, walking out of the office.

Rossi watched them go, frowning. As much he wanted everything to work out between his two friends, he knew Hotch was still struggling. Hopefully, this conversation would help clear things up instead of make matters worse. While a smile, he quickly sent Reid a text asking him to let him know if he wouldn’t be coming to stay the night at his place, thinking that Hotch would likely take them back to his own house. With that, he collected his coat and made his own exit from the BAU, his mind drifting to the question of what he would have for dinner.

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“So where do you want to go?” Aaron asked once they were in his car. While one part of him was hoping Spencer would ask to go to his house, another dreaded it. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see the genius in the place where they last spent a lovely evening with his son.

Spencer eyed the way Aaron’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his fingers flexing, before he made his decision.

“Let’s go to my place. I have something to show you.”

Quickly smothering his first thought -  _ are you sure that’s safe? _ \- Hotch nodded and pulled out of the parking lot. He had only been to Spencer’s place a few times at the start of their relationship, before he told Jack that sometimes Spencer would be staying the night because they were dating now. After that, the two spent most of their time at his home, Spencer claiming that it was more comfortable and that he didn’t want to take Aaron away from the time he had with his son given how much he traveled. If Aaron was pressed, he would name that moment as the exact time he fell in love with the other man.

The trip to Spencer’s apartment was taken in strained silence, both men thinking through what they wanted to say to other. By the time Spencer closed the door to his apartment, the thick tension was making him twitch.

“Aaron, I…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” The other man snapped, pacing over to look at the wall of book shelves.

“But…”

“Look, Spencer, I love you okay. And I know you, no matter the fact that you have been keeping this huge part of yourself away from me. I don’t want some apology from you because you feel guilty for hiding this. Yes, I’m angry, furious even, that you hid all this, but I get it!”

Aaron whirled around, facing the taller man who was staring at him with wide, anxious eyes.

“I know that sometimes the job demands that you keep secrets from everyone around you, secrets that tear you up inside. When Prentiss was almost killed...” Aaron trailed off, not wanting to delve into that particular shameful experience again.

Spencer nodded, his voice soft.  “With Doyle.”

Aaron gave his lover a wan smile, remembering confiding in him about his hatred of having to lie to his team for so long.  The irony struck him now, about how he had been so happy with Spencer’s easy acceptance. Now, their roles were reversed and Aaron was a mess instead of simply supportive.

“Yes. I get it, Sencer, at least intellectually. But I can’t just mentally wave away the fact that you lied to me for the entirety of our relationship and the only reason I know now is because some crazy woman is hunting you down!”

“Aaron, no!” Spencer’s anguished cry broke through the building haze of anger that had taken hold of Hotch. “I mean, yes, this whole situation forced my hand but I was always going to tell you. I just, I was waiting for the right time but it just never came. Look, follow me.”

Spencer walked toward his bedroom, turning at the doorway to make sure the other man was behind him. When he opened his closet, Aaron watched, confusion turning into shock when the hidden room was revealed.

He paused at the doorway to the room, taking in the covered walls with pictures and names, some of which he recognized but many of which he didn’t. Spencer opened one of the filing cabinets and pulled out a large, full binder before turning and offering it to Aaron.

“Here.”

Aaron instinctively grabbed the binder before he registered the CIA logo on the front. He glanced at Spencer as he opened to the front page. The other man was leaning against his desk, nervously fiddling with a pen and refusing to look at the FBI agent. A desire to go over and wrap the other man in a tight embrace and assure him everything would be alright filled Aaron, but he pushed it back, knowing he would be the one lying if he did that. Sighing he looked down at the front page, his eyebrows immediately flying up as he took in the legalese in front of him.

“This is a non-disclosure agreement.”

“Yeah. I finally convinced Charlene to get me permission to read you in last month. I’ve had that since then but, well...I was too scared to give it to you.” The last words were a pained whisper.

Aaron starred, rereading the front page as he absorbed what this meant. For the first time since he had seen Reid in the conference room in Langley, he felt hope that things could actually work out.

“Let’s go back to the counter so I can read through this. Order us some take out?”

Aaron watched as Spencer’s head jerked up, a huge smile taking over his face.

“Thai okay?”

“Yeah.” Aaron’s soft smile was only a small echo of his lover’s, but to Spencer, it was a beacon of hope that infused him with warmth. Maybe, just maybe they would get through this.

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It took Hotch a half hour to slog through the hefty legal document. More than once he thanked his background as a lawyer as he untangled the tricky wording of a clause that basically threatened to throw him into a dark hidden cage and toss away the key if he breathed a word of what Spencer was going to share with him. By the time he signed the last line, the Thai food had arrived and Spencer had poured them both some water. Aaron had turned down the beer the man had first offered, wanting his head to be clear for the conversation that was to come.

As Spencer settled into the countertop seat next to him, Aaron pushed the document aside and grabbed the container of spicy red curry.

“So, I’ve been wondering. How did you get involved with the CIA?”

Spencer hummed, chewing and swallowing the bite of shrimp pad thai he had just taken.

“The Agency tends to keep an eye out for young geniuses. It’s basically one of its primary means of recruitment. I don’t really know what I did to attract their attention, but after I finished my first PhD in mathematics, I was approached. My mother had been getting a lot worse, and I knew I had to do something, but at the time, I was swimming in loans and had no idea how I was going to afford the care she needed. They offered a solution.”

“They used your mother’s sickness to make you sign on?” Aaron growled, unable to keep his disgust out of his voice.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly like that but basically, yeah.” Spencer finished another bite before continuing. “They didn’t mention her directly at any point during their spiel, but they offered me a lot of money and a chance to keep pursuing my education. There was no way they didn’t know about my mother’s situation, but at the time, I was naive enough to not really realize they would have probably used that as a bargaining chip if I hadn’t agreed pretty much immediately. Once I had mom safely in Bennington, I went off to training, also known as hell, and half a year later, I was a rookie agent and enrolling in my second PhD.”

For the next several hours, Reid shared story after story of his exploits with the CIA. Aaron was by parts awed at the man’s strength, frightened by the situations he had gotten himself into, and intrigued by finding out the real stories behind some of the things his lover had shared with him in the past:

“I wasn’t lying when I said I hated guns.” Spencer admitted. “It almost kept me from field work, because I could barely pass the qualification test. Then I was on research duty when our base of operations was attacked and I shot one of the intruders in the head. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.”

“I really am addicted to Dilaudid.” Spencer stated quietly at another point. “I was held hostage by a small religious cult in Germany who were planning a series of bombings. After the leader tortured me, his son would sneak in and give it to me. By the time I was rescued, it was too late.”

“My knee injury is what made me leave fieldwork.” That confession was accompanied by Spencer rolling up his pant leg, exposing the faint scars Aaron was already acquainted with. “I know I told you I dislocated it while dancing and needed to have surgery, but really, I was shot. During my recovery, I realized that while I liked stopping people from hurting others, I wasn’t interested in being out there on the front lines anymore. So I became a consultant, moved to D.C. and started at Georgetown.”

“Do you miss it?” It’s the first real words Aaron had spoken since Reid started talking about his life as an agent.

“Not a bit.”

Silence hung over them before Spencer shifted on the couch where he had migrated a couple hours before after finishing dinner.

“So, that’s pretty much the highlights.”

“Okay.” Aaron’s voice was soft, his mind still processing all the information he had just found out.

“Aaron, I know this might be too soon to ask, but, well, are we, is this…” Spencer paused in his stuttering, biting his lip. 

Aaron sighed. “I don’t know Spencer. It’s just, it’s a lot to take in. And it’s not just me I have to worry about, it’s Jack. He already went through so much with Haley dying. I can’t put him through something like that again. He already cares for you so much, but this whole situation just highlights the dangers of your job, even if you are a consultant right now.”

Spencer turned his head away, tears prickling in his eyes. He was afraid that despite everything, this was the end. Aaron watched him, noting the dampness on his face, something twisting inside of him.

“Look, Spencer, I know that’s hypocritical of me, what with my job and everything, but it’s what I have to think about.” He struggled to defend himself as he watched the man sink further into the couch, his posture becoming more defeated. 

Aaron grimaced, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. “I’m not saying this won’t work out. I’m just...I’m just saying I don’t know. Not right now, not with everything going on. Once this is all over, when Savaryn is caught, then we can revisit things. But, Spencer, I need more time.”

Spencer sighed, cursing the sense of hope that filled him at those words and the tears that were still threatening to fall. “Okay Aaron, I understand.”

Spencer got up from the couch, walking toward his bedroom. “Look, I’m gonna call Rossi to come pick me up. I need you to leave. Go home, see Jack. When all this is over, we can talk again.”

“Spencer, I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you alone,” Aaron started, rising from his own seat.

Spencer whirled around, anger overcoming his sadness. “Seriously Aaron? After all that, all those stories of the many, many situations where I successfully defended not only myself but other people and this county from people more dangerous than some controlling woman, you don’t think I can handle myself in my own home for the fifteen minutes it will take Dave to get here?”

“Spencer, that’s not…”

“Shut up, Hotch. Just leave. I don’t want you here, not right now. It hurts too much to have you here.”

With that, Spencer stormed into his room and slammed the door, the sound of a lock clicking into place resounding through the apartment.

Hotch sighed, defeated. He gathered his coat and let himself out, making sure the apartment door locked behind him. As he walked down the hall, he pulled out his phone and brought up Rossi’s number. No matter the truth about Reid being able to take care of himself, he shouldn’t have to, especially not now.

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Rossi parked in front of Reid’s building, exasperation at his two friends filling him. Even if they had to have fought, couldn’t they have picked a better location to do it? It spoke of the extent of their emotions clouding their professional judgement that they had chosen to return to a place Savaryn most likely knew about.

Sighing, the Italian man picked up his phone and called Reid. By the time it went to voicemail for the second time, he was frowning, unease building inside him. The kid was likely just upset and ignoring the phone, he rationalized, climbing out of his car. He took out the key Hotch had given him weeks ago ‘just in case’, letting himself into the building as he put his phone to his ear again. By the time he reached the CIA agent’s floor, dread was pooling in his gut. One look at the apartment door, slightly ajar and with signs of having been forced open, and that dread blossomed into full blown fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, I cast Olga Kurylenko as Yuliya Savaryn  
> http://www.celebzz.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/olga-kurylenko-at-el-maestro-del-agua-madrid-photocall_4.jpg


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains torture. While the actual act is not described, a lot of things surrounding it are.

_ “If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”  _ – George Orwell

Spencer silently cursed himself as he returned to consciousness. While he had certainly been upset when he had basically ordered Hotch to leave his apartment, that was absolutely no excuse to leave himself without any backup at a compromised location with a skilled killer out to get him.

Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even, he attempted to assess his surroundings with his other senses. He was laying on an even, hard surface of some kind, stripped down to only his boxers.. Straps of fabric - thick and synthetic by the feel - were wrapped around his wrists, chest, thighs and ankles. While they weren’t pulling harshly, he could feel the tension in the restraints holding him immobile.

The room was completely silent. Reid knew from experience that meant there was likely some form of soundproofing in place. No matter how isolated a location, there was always some level of ambient sounds from the outside world that filtered in, unless it was cut off deliberately.

A subtle smell floated in the air, just a hint of musk with a floral overtone  - an echo of the expensive perfume Savaryn had been wearing when she waltzed into his apartment with a hulking brute of a man at her side who held him down while she injected him with the contents of a large syringe.

As he was contemplating whether it was worth the risk to open his eyes, the sound of a door opening followed by the click of heels resonated through the room. The scent of the expensive perfume became stronger as well.

“Time to wake up, Dr. Reid.” A rich, accented voice crooned. “I have so many questions for The Scholar.”

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The BAU team quickly assembled at Spencer’s apartment once Rossi made the phone calls. To say they were upset would be an understatement. Morgan was in the middle of calling both Rossi and Hotch out on leaving Reid alone when Agent Addams walked through the broken door.

“Agent Morgan, that is enough.” Her stern voice brooked no argument and to the surprise of the BAU, the upset agent complied.

Next, Charlene turned in a circle, taking in the scene of the apartment, with the two forks and glasses next to the sink. “Right now, I do not care how or why my agent was in such a vulnerable position. I also do not blame your team entirely for what occurred - Reid is quite stubborn and the team I had in place surveilling this location also failed to prevent the abduction. However,” Here she paused and locked an unblinking gaze on Hotch. “I am not a fool. Tell me the truth - how compromised are you right now by your personal relationship with Dr. Reid?”

Morgan’s mouth dropped open as Prentiss sucked in a shocked breath and JJ spun around to stare at her boss.

Hotch took in the woman in front of him, at least a foot shorter than him and with soft curves that likely caused many to underestimate her. He wouldn’t make that mistake.

“I am certainly not detached right now, but none of are, including you.” His voice was even, barely covering his guilt and fear. “But I can promise you this - I already lost one person I love to an unsub. I will do everything I can to stop that from happening again. There is absolutely nothing you can do that will prevent me from being a part of this.”

Charlene and Aaron stared at each other for a few moments, each silently taking the measure of the other. Suddenly Charlene smiled and nodded her head. “Good. Now then, the CIA will work with your agency to process the scene given that there are classified materials currently at this location. You and your team should head back to Quantico and work from there.”

While Hotch disliked the thought of leaving the last place he knew Spencer had been, he understood and agreed with the order. “Alright. We will keep you posted on anything we find out and expect the same from you.”

“Of course, Agent Hotchner.”

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After seeing the pictures of her previous victims as well as going through the BAU’s profile, Reid was surprised that Savaryn didn’t start the torture and interrogation immediately. Instead, she had perched on a stool situated next to the table where he was bound and started talking,regaling him with the story of how she had gone underground after her brother’s organization had collapsed.

“But really, it was ours, you see. People just assumed he was the one in charge, being a man and all, and I was just the pretty sister supporting him. Those who crossed us learned otherwise, of course. Like you, my dear Scholar.” 

Reid listened attentively and filed away everything she said so that if,  _ no when _ , he got out of here, he could pass the information along to Charlene and the IA group looking into how his identity was compromised.

“Of course, the one who finally provided me with what I needed didn’t know exactly who you were, but the information I was able to gather gave me just enough to know that I could find you. And here you are! I should have realized that you would be here, in your nation’s capital and within easy reach of your CIA masters. But ah, what’s done is done. Pity those other men had to die, but really, they were weak, begging and lying to me at the end, pretending to be you. It’s not like it was a hardship to honor their final wishes for death. The world is better without horrible men like that.”

She leaned forward, running her bright red nails down Reid’s arm, a light scratch that barely registered. Spencer held himself still even as disgust filled him.

“You, though, Scholar, you won’t lie to me, will you?” She crooned before leaning back, crossing her legs and pinning Spencer with a hard look. “Tell me about the night you got my brother killed.”

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When the team arrived back at the BAU, Morgan immediately turned to Hotch.

“What the hell was that?”

“I am assuming you mean Agent Addams talking about my personal relationship with Dr. Reid?” Hotch said dryly, not wanting to talk about this but knowing that Morgan wouldn’t give up until he had all the answers. The man was like a dog sometimes, digging away at things until he found the buried bone. Normally, Hotch appreciated that quality - it was one of the many things that made Morgan a good agent - but being the subject of that scrutiny, especially right now when every moment wasted was one where Spencer was likely being tortured, galled at him.

JJ and Prentiss had gathered around, watching the interaction and equally curious to hear what he had to say.

“Doctor Reid and I have been involved in a romantic relationship for almost a year now.” 

“Huh,” Prentiss tapped her index finger to her lip, thinking. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

JJ nodded beside her. “Yes, it does. I mean, I certainly noticed you were happier the last several months. Now we know why. Well, congratulations, belatedly.”

Morgan shifted his gaze to the two women, shocked. “What? That’s it, that’s all you gotta say?”

Prentiss narrowed her eyes at the other agent. “Yes, Morgan, it is.”

“He’s been hiding this from us for over a year and didn’t even let us know when it affected this case!”

“Derek,” JJ began sweetly, “we all have personal things we keep hidden from each other, even when it affects cases, including you. Do you need me to remind you of some of your past misdeeds? No? Good.”

“Thank you, JJ, Emily.” Hotch spoke, hoping to head off any further conflict between his team members. “Now, why don’t we concentrate on trying to find Savaryn.”

At that moment, Garcia came running into the office, evidence of tears on her face in the form of smeared mascara.

“Is it true, did that horrible woman take my gorgeous genius?”

“Yeah baby girl, it’s true. Also, our great leader just admitted that he and Reid have apparently been dating.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s so lovely! And horrible, oh my goodness, Hotch, you poor thing, the love of your life has been kidnapped and unthinkable things might be happening to him right now!” With that flood of words, Garcia threw herself at Hotch and wrapped him in a large hug before pulling back just as quickly. “Don’t you worry, we are going to find him! I’ve found a newer trace of our hacker in Reid’s bank account, I’m in the process of back tracking it but I’ll go step it up and dig some more, like, right now!”

With that, Garcia ran right back out the door, leaving Hotch and Morgan staring after her, the former with a subtle smile, the latter almost sputtering. JJ and Prentiss shared an amused look. 

“I think we should all follow Garcia’s lead and get to work trying to find Spencer.” Blake spoke up from where she and Rossi stood next to each other off to the side, waiting for the drama to pass.

Morgan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “All y’all are crazy” but followed the rest of the team up to the conference room to pour over the evidence and their profile again.

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Spencer Reid was experienced with being interrogated and, unfortunately, tortured. While his field work hadn’t put him undercover as often as other agents, he had done his fair share and, as with any mission, things didn’t always go smoothly.

At first, he was able to answer questions just enough to keep Savaryn talking without giving too much away.

Then Savaryn had suddenly stood from her stool and he knew it was about to go downhill.

“You’re holding back on me, Doctor Reid. I don’t appreciate that.” With that, she walked over to the covered counter lining the wall opposite the door, pulling the sheet off to reveal various implements underneath. Bound as he was, Spencer could only turn his head a catch a glimpse of what was laid bare, but it was enough to make him swallow back a involuntary moan of fear.

Savaryn ran her hands over the implements, caressing them as if they were precious jewelry.

“I was hoping you would be reasonable but honestly, I knew you wouldn’t. Men, even my beautiful brother, often aren’t. And really, I can’t say a part of me isn’t looking forward to seeing the Scholar who destroyed the life I had worked so hard to build writhing in pain. So, let’s get started, shall we.”

She turned back to him holding a small knife, the sharp blade gleaming in the harsh overhead light of the room. “Now remember, the more you hold back, the more this will hurt.”

With that, she walked over and, holding his boxers away from his skin, cut them off.

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The soft light of dawn was coming in through the windows when Morgan’s phone rang. The team stilled, recognizing the ringtone.

“Baby girl, tell me you have something.”

“I am about to make your day, my chocolate Adonis. I found our hacker’s lair.”

Those words sent the team into a scramble, gathering their weapons and preparing to leave. Hotch rounded up a SWAT team while JJ contacted Agent Addams, filling her in.

“Our intelligence suggests that the hacker working with Savaryn might be someone who goes by the name Salim. We don’t know very much about them, but the Agency would appreciate a little chat with them once you’re through.”

“Well, we will certainly see what we can do, Agent Addams. However, we won’t turn them over to the CIA until we find Reid.”

“Of course, finding Doctor Reid takes priority right now, but we believe that Salim has information that could be important to multiple operations we currently have running, including some with links to terrorism. You could mention that we are more than willing to be somewhat accommodating if they are willing to cooperate, but if not, we do have some...options at our disposal.”

JJ frowned slightly, aware of the depth of hidden meaning in those words. As much as she sometimes hated being part of the seedier side of government, she could appreciate the bargaining chip she had just been handed.

“I will pass that along to the rest of my team and Salim as well, once we get ahold of them.”

“Perfect. Just let me know once you have them and I will send along someone from my office to assist you.”

With that, the other Agent hung up and JJ joined the rest of the team as they gathered, ready to move out. She filled them in on the new development as they walked out to their cars, appreciating the signs of her uneasy acceptance echoed in them.

By the time the SUV’s pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant behind the motel where Garcia had tracked the hacker, the sun had fully cleared the horizon, glinting off the helmets of the SWAT team that was already there.

It took an agonizingly long ten minutes for the two teams to confer and agree on a plan, then they were moving, splitting into groups to cover the entrances while Morgan took the lead, barking at the front desk to give them the key to room 212, where Garcia discovered a Mr. Andreiko had checked in, paying for two weeks up front.

Swiftly, the mix of SWAT and BAU breached the room, finding a large setup of multiple computers and one tiny blonde woman scrambling out of bed, yelling at them in Russian.

As three members of the SWAT team spread out around the small motel room, Morgan swiftly cuffed the woman and Mirandized her before pushing her down to sit on the bed. JJ knelt in front of the hacker as the rest of the BAU crowded inside, spilling out into the hallway.

“Are you Salim?”

The woman glared before glancing around at the various people in the room, guns out.

“Da, I am Salim. And you, you are Jennifer Jareau of the BAU.”

“I go by JJ.” JJ looked at the woman, dressed in only a slim chemise. Grabbing a blanket off the bed, she draped it over her shoulders before returning to her previous position.

“As you probably know, we aren’t interested in you. We want Dr. Reid and Yuliya Savaryn. The CIA, on the other hand, they are very interested in getting a hold of you.”

A guttural sounding word dripped from the woman’s mouth at the mention of the CIA, chin tilted up in a stubborn jut. JJ didn’t miss the brief hint of fear in her eyes that her posturing was unable to hide.

“Now, I can’t promise that we can prevent the CIA from getting their hands on you. But, the BAU isn’t with the CIA and I am sure that the FBI is equally interested in some of the information that you have. If you tell us where to find Agent Reid, we will do everything we can to have you get turned over to our organization instead.”

The woman glared before tossing her head, sagging in her bonds. “Hу нахер. Fine, I’ll show you. Savaryn wasn’t paying me enough anyway. Пизда. But I only know how to get there by car, so you better have one ready.

Morgan hauled Salim up from the bed, keeping the sheet around her as he marched her out the door. A stream of SWAT and BAU followed except for Prentiss and Rossi, who immediately moved to secure the scene and call it in.

Once at their SUVs, Morgan cuffed Salim in the middle of the front row so she could see the road. He and JJ sat on either side of her while Blake sat in the passenger seat and Hotch climbed behind the wheel, gripping it with white knuckles as he pulled out into the street. The SWAT team piled into their armored truck and followed.

Salim directed them through a maze of back streets until they ended up in the middle of the warehouse district. 

“There, the second door to that building.” Salim gestured to the building on the left. “There’s a set of rooms on the 3rd floor that she’s using - I can’t remember which ones but the doors are black and they’re sunk into the walls a bit because of the - ah, I can’t remember the word, whatever makes it so you can’t hear anything inside.”

“Soundproofing.” Blake corrected absently while everyone unbuckled.

“Blake, Morgan, stay with Salim and be ready to call an ambulance.” Hotch ordered as he climbed out of the car.”

“Hotch…” Morgan protested.

Hotch cut him off. “Savaryn will likely respond better to a woman, especially one as put-together as JJ.”

“Fine.” Morgan grunted, displeased but realising the other agent was right. “At least let me get us a radio so we know if you need backup.”

“Of course.” Hotch stated matter-of-fact, stepping out of the car and striding over to where the SWAT team was assembling, Morgan right behind him. 

As JJ moved to follow, she paused and turned back to the bound hacker.

“Anything else we should know?”

“What, you think I would hide something from you?”

JJ’s answer was quick. “Of course.” 

“Aren’t you the smart girl. “ Salim smirked before shrugging. “Fine, fine, since you asked. Watch out for Ivan. He’s Savaryn’s puppy, always following after her, begging for little bits of attention and attacking whoever she points him to. The desperate idiot probably thinks she’ll be impressed into sucking his dick one of these days.”

JJ nodded, sharing a look with Blake, before closing the passenger door and going to share this new piece of information with the rest of the group.

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Spencer lay on the table, sweat drying on his body as he panted, trying to catch his breath in between cuts , breathing through the pain. The harsh, throbbing ache in his groin made him want to curl up and keen, but he was able to resist. This was in part from the bonds holding him down but also from his urge to not let her break him, at least not until he gave the BAU time to find him. He had lost track of how long he had been in this room but, given that he had no idea how long he was unconscious before he woke up strapped down and helpless, it likely didn’t matter. He just needed to continue hanging on.

The door to the room opened again and Savaryn came back in, sipping clear liquid from a glass bottle.

“You know, Spencer, this type of work does make me thirsty.” She tipped back the bottle, taking a nice long drink. “Though really, how rude of me. I am sure you would like some of this too.”

Spencer’s stomach twisted and nausea rose in him at her almost giddy tone. He braced himself for whatever horrible thing was next but couldn’t keep a hiss from escaping his lips as she poured some of the liquid over his groin and fire traveled across his skin.

_ Not water then.  _ He thought, noting the smell that rose in the air.   _ Vodka, likely Russian rather than domestic. _

Savaryn took another sip then set the bottle aside and turned to the counter holding her tools.

“I should have known you would be more of a challenge than the others. Of course, they were not real CIA agents, so who can blame them. But you, Doctor Reid, you are frustrating. All I want is some honest answers. Is that too hard to ask?”

With a sigh, she picked up what Reid recognized in horror was a cattle prod. She pressed the attached button a few times, watching the electrical current arch between the two tines.

“Let’s start again, shall we? How did you know where to find my brother?”

Without waiting for a response, her arm lowered, moving the device toward Reid when suddenly, the door flew open and two men in SWAT uniforms poured in, guns up. Hotch and JJ were right behind them.

“Ублюдок! Залиш мене!” Savaryn screeched, throwing the cattle prod to the side and leaping forward.

The lead SWAT agent dropped his gun and intercepted the wild-eyed, incensed woman, using her momentum to spin around and slam her into the side wall. Savaryn crumpled to the floor, still.

Not even sparing a glance at their now unconscious unsub, JJ and Hotch rushed over to Reid, hands scrambling to undo the binds holding him down.

By the time he was free and laying on his side, his knees pulled up to protect his hurting genitals, Reid’s head was swimming, the realization that he was safe setting in. A broken sob slipped past his lips.

“Shh, Spencer, it’s okay, we’ve got you.” Aaron sat on the stool Savaryn had used, leaning over the injured agent, one hand resting on his head. His thumb swept through the other man’s thick hair as he crooned quietly over the man’s softs whimpers.

“You’re safe. We found you. Savaryn’s never going to hurt you again. An ambulance will be here soon. Shh, it’s okay, love, just hang in there for a little bit more...”

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By the end of the day, Savaryn had been delivered to the CIA while Salim was locked up tight in an FBI cell. Ivan Gorsuch, Savaryn’s hulking guard dog, was in FBI custody in the hospital, where he was being treated for the gunshot wound to the shoulder he had sustained during the raid.

Spencer was on a different floor of the same hospital, resting somewhat comfortably in bed. It had been a bit of a fight with the doctors but they had finally gotten him some non-narcotic pain medication. Combined with his exhaustion, the medication and subsequent decrease in pain had caused him to drift off to sleep.

Aaron had remained with him through the entire process, from the ambulance ride to the ER and then up to his current room, where he sat, unmoving, in the chair by the bed. The moment Spencer stirred with a moan, Aaron leaned forward and grabbed his hand.

“Spencer, you’re in the hospital. It’s okay now.”

Hazel eyes blinked open, taking in the older man’s concerned,protective features.

“What are you doing here?”

“I love you, Spencer. Of course I’m here.”

“What about what you said before?”

Aaron grimaced, looking down at where his hand was twinned with that of his lover.

“I was stubborn and stupid. Everything that happened this past week with the CIA stuff, I didn’t handle it well. I can understand if you are still upset. Just, please, know that I was wrong and no matter what happens, I love you. I never want to face my life without you in it.”

Spencer was silent for several minutes as a torrent of emotions filled him. Finally, a small smile replaced his confused frown.

“I’m glad you realized you were wrong.”

“Me too. Can we just forget about this whole week of my acting the fool?” Aaron requested, half-teasing,half-serious.

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “No, Aaron, I don’t want to do that. If we pretend like this case never happened, then you won’t know the truth about me, and I want that. I want you to know and love all of me, not just the parts you were aware of before.”

Warmth filled Aaron and, without thinking, he leaned over and kissed the man in front of him. Spencer shifted, suprised, then went languid, his arms moving to wrap around Aaron’s neck, anchoring the man in place as the kiss deepened. Aaron groaned, one hand cupping Spencer’s face while the other rested on the bed, providing more leverage as he half crouched over his lover.

Suddenly, a beeping alarm shrilled and the two men jerked apart, blushing. A nurse hustled in, eyeing Hotch suspiciously before noting her patient’s open eyes.

“Oh, Mr. Reid, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Doctor.” Hotch corrected.

The nurse glared at the older man before turning back to Spencer. “Do you want to talk to the doctor?”

Hotch smiled, amused. “No, it’s okay. My partner was just pointing out that my title is Doctor, not Mister.”

“Oh, okay. Well, do you need anything, Dr. Reid?”

Reid shook his head, “No, I’m good, thank you.”

“Okay, well, if you do need something, just press the call light.” With one final suspicious glance at Hotch, the nurse left.

“She doesn’t like you very much, does she?” Spencer pointed out.

“Well, I did molest her patient.” Aaron stated dryly, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Yes, you certainly did. But I think any future molestation will have to wait until I’m healed.” Spencer’s tone turned bitter, mind filling with memories of the torture he had endured.

“It’s okay, Spencer. Right now just focus on resting. We can worry about everything else later.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Reid stated, his eyes drifting close, letting his tiredness take over. As he drifted off, he caught the quiet promise Aaron made.

“Next year, I’ll give you the anniversary you deserve.”

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, I cast Yuliya Peresild as Salim  
> http://beautifulrus.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/Yuliya-Peresild-3.jpg
> 
> Translations (from the internet)  
> Hу нахер - Russian, "fuck it" (when things aren't going right)  
> Пизда - Russian, "cunt"  
> Ублюдок! Залиш мене - Ukrainian, "Motherfucker! Leave"


End file.
